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iESPEA 










Class 
Book 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



ECLECTIC ENGLISH CLASSICS 



SHAKESPEARE'S 



MERCHANT OF VENICE 



EDITED WITH AN INTRODUCTION AND SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY BY 

GILBERT SYKES BLAKELY 

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH. MORRIS HIGH SCHOOL, NEW YORK CITY 



NEW YORK •:• CINCINNATI •:• CHICAGO 

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 



?1?S.2 ; 



Copyright, 1893 and 1911, by 
American Book Company 



Mer. Venice 
w. p. 1 



CLA2SG031 



INTRODUCTION. 

i l 

The Birthplace of Shakespeare. — Nearly one hundred 
miles northwest from London, on the banks of the slow and 
sluggish Avon lies the village of Stratford on Avon. It is well 
situated in beautiful Warwickshire, a few miles from the stately 
Warwick Castle and the beautiful ruin of Kenilworth. It con- 
tains somewhat more than 8,000 inhabitants, and looks pros- 
perous with its comfortable houses, its shaded streets, and its 
well-kept squares. But after all it looks no better nor more 
beautiful than many another village in England. It has, how- 
ever, one great distinction. It was the birthplace and home of 
Shakespeare. And that is distinction enough, for it is to that 
- fact that the town is known and that many of the inhabitants 
owe their means of livelihood, for here some thirty thousand 
people make their way every year to stand where Shakespeare 
lived and died. 

From the railway station the visitor drives about the town 
to the spots sacred to the memory of the poet, and to the neigh- 
boring hamlet of Shottery, where everyone wishes to see the 
thatched cottage of Ann Hathaway. The house is preserved 
much as it was three hundred years ago, when Shakespeare here 
wooed and won his lady. The large open fireplace with its old 
and worn chimney seat, the low rooms with their antique 
furniture, and the garden full of old-fashioned flowers, all at- 
tract and hold our attention. A longer drive will take one over 
well-trodden roads past Charlecote, the large estate formerly 
owned by Sir Thomas Lucy and made famous by the oft- 
repeated tale of one of the poet's youthful escapades. 

3 



4 INTRODUCTION. 

As we drive back through the streets of Stratford we notice 
the shops, and there are many of them, but there is a strange 
sameness among them, for their principal stock in trade seems 
to be souvenirs of Stratford. Books about the great poet or 
his work, photographs of the various places of interest, post 
cards, and a thousand and one knickknacks having something 
or other to do with the man who made the town famous; are 
what are bought and sold in Stratford. Inns there are and 
restaurants in abundance to care for the hundreds that daily 
visit the poet's shrine. And so we conclude that William 
Shakespeare, who died almost three hundred years ago, is to-day 
the most valuable asset of the town and that he is indirectly 
responsible for the livelihood of a large number of its inhabitants. 

One of the places of greatest interest in Stratford is the house 
on Henley Street where Shakespeare was born, a long, half- 
timbered house close upon the street. Less than a hundred 
years ago it was more or less unappreciated, for one end of it 
was used as a meat market. The obliging butcher freely let 
travelers go upstairs without oversight to the room where we 
suppose the poet was born. The result is that now there is 
scarcely a place on wall or ceiling large enough to write one's 
name that is not already inscribed with some name or other. 
Even the windowpanes are covered with names, and some of 
them are of distinguished men like Sir Walter Scott and Thomas 
Carlyle. The entire building is now used as a Shakespeare 
museum. Here are various books, pictures, chairs, and relics 
of many sorts that are treasured because of their association 
with the former distinguished occupant of the house. 

Of perhaps even greater interest is the church, where the 
dust of the poet now lies. It is not large nor especially beautiful, 
but it is very pleasantly situated at the end of a double row of 
shade trees on the bank of the river, its spire reaching above the 
tree tops and visible far and near. Within, our chief interest is 
the chancel, where we find the slab over Shakespeare's grave 
inscribed in the well-known words: 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

"Good frend, for Jesus sake forbeare 
To digg the dust encloased heare: 
Bleste be the man that spares thes stones, 
And curst be he that moves my bones." 

Beside Shakespeare are buried his wife (d. 1623); his daughter, 
Susanna Hall (d. 1649); his son-in-law, Dr. Hall (d. 1635) and 
Thomas Nash (d. 1647), the first husband of his granddaughter 
Elizabeth. On the wall near by is the famous Stratford bust of 
the poet, as well as tablets to the memory of John Combe, the 
money lender, and others who would long since have been for- 
gotten but for their fortunate burial place. 

Leaving the church and following the river a little distance 
we find the Memorial Theater, built in 1879, as the chief monu- 
ment in Stratford to the memory of her greatest citizen. Here 
we find a large collection of editions of Shakespeare's works, 
manuscripts, pictures, and other literary relics. Here also is a 
small auditorium where memorial performances are given an- 
nually in April. From the roof one gets the view of Stratford 
most familiar to us, in which the noticeable features are the 
quiet Avon, curving gracefully, and the spire of the church 
rising from among the tree tops near the river bank. 

II. 

The Life of Shakespeare. — William Shakespeare was born 
in Stratford in April, probably the 23d, 1564. His father, John 
Shakespeare, although not an educated man, was a man of 
affairs and apparently had the confidence of his friends and 
neighbors. He was a glover by trade and held several public 
offices, the most important of which were alderman and high 
bailiff. Mary Arden, wife of John Shakespeare, was the daughter 
of a landowner in Warwickshire, and belonged to a family that 
had had a long and honorable record. She brought her hus- 
band some property as well as family distinction. 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

Little is known of William's boyhood, but it is supposed that 
he attended the Stratford grammar school, where Latin was the 
chief study. About his fourteenth year, however, his father's 
fortunes began to decline. John Shakespeare mortgaged his 
property and was apparently in fear of arrest for it is recorded 
that he failed to come to the Aldermen's Hall and to attend 
church. In view of these difficulties it is likely that the boy had 
to leave school and earn his own living, but we can only guess 
what his employment was. r N 

The next that we hear of him is that at eighteen he married 
Ann Hathaway of the neighboring hamlet of Shottery, a woman 
eight years older than himself. The following year, 1583, a 
daughter, Susanna, was born; and two years later, 1585, twins, 
Hamnet and Judith, were added to the household. Seven years 
later we find him in London gaining fame as a writer and an 
actor. Just when or why he left Stratford we do not know. 
Tradition says that he was prosecuted by Sir Thomas Lucy for 
poaching on Sir Thomas's deer park at Charlecote, a short dis- 
tance from Stratford, and that this was at least one cause of his 
leaving home. It seems unnecessary, however, to seek further 
for a reason than that the young man of twenty-one with a wife 
and three children to support sought a larger opportunity for 
earning his living than a country village afforded. He went to 
the city just as many another young man has done from that 
time to this. How long it took him to become established, how 
he became interested in the theater, through what apprentice- 
ship he won his success, are all matters of conjecture. What we 
do know is that early in the nineties he was becoming known as 
a successful writer of dramas, and that by 1598 he was a leading 
dramatist and had written several of the plays that we know 
best, among which is "The Merchant of Venice." Signs of his 
financial success are seen in his purchase of a home in Stratford, 
called New Place, and in the taxes assessed to him on property 
held in London. 

These early years of prosperity were saddened by the death 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

of his only son, Hamnet, in 1596 and of his father in 1601. 
Some have thought that these personal sorrows were the cause 
of his turning from comedy to tragedy and of his writing the 
great tragedies that deal so fully with the darker side of life. 
This view may not be true, but it is worth noting that all his 
gay and joyous comedies come early in his writings. He re- 
mained in London and wrote plays until about 1610 or 1612, 
when he retired to his home in Stratford to spend the remaining 
years of his life in the peace and quiet of his native village. 
Here he lived for some four or five years with his wife, and his 
two daughters, the older of whom had married and was the 
mother of a little girl named Elizabeth. His days of retirement 
were short for on April 23, 161 6, the fifty-second anniversary of 
his birth, he died suddenly and was buried in the Stratford 
church. 

III. 

The Age of Shakespeare. — One often wonders what 
Shakespeare would have been if he had been born in another 
age. No doubt his genius would have found some means of 
expression, but it might not have been in the drama. His birth 
in the reign of Elizabeth was certainly fortunate, for the con- 
ditions of life were favorable to the unfolding of his powers. 
Such a London as he knew would doubtless seem very rude 
to us of the twentieth century. The foul, narrow streets; the 
dirty uncarpeted floors; the rude manner of eating when forks 
were unknown; barbarous methods of justice when men were 
drawn and quartered for trivial offenses and when the bloody 
heads of executed criminals were exposed to the view of every 
passing child; all these speak of an age that seems to us far 
from fortunate. But it was an age of teeming life, of great 
enthusiasm, of continued progress. Learning was becoming 
widespread, commerce was enlarging, and England was be- 
coming a better and pleasanter place in which to live. The 
drama was extremely popular and furnished Shakespeare and 



8 INTRODUCTION. 

his companions with the means both of reaching the people and 
of expressing the vigorous and bounding life of the time. 

To understand the age in which the poet lived we must go 
back a hundred years to note the beginning of a great move- 
ment called "The Renaissance" or new birth. In the latter 
half of the fifteenth century some scholars, driven from Con- 
stantinople by advancing Turks, had found a welcome in cer- 
tain Italian cities, where they established schools for teaching 
the language, literature, and history of earlier civilizations. 
Fired with a love of learning, men went out from these schools 
and carried their enthusiasm throughout Europe. They founded 
schools, they taught Greek and Latin, they inspired people to 
the study of the Bible as well as of other masterpieces of litera- 
ture, they made learning popular. This Renaissance movement 
transformed the dark and sleeping countries of Europe and 
stirred men's lives. In Germany it led to the Reformation and 
in England it led to a great growth in education, and, more 
remotely, to the establishing and developing of the English 
church. 

Throughout the sixteenth century, and especially in the latter 
half, after Elizabeth became queen, the new life was trying to 
express itself in literature. Scholars were translating the old 
classics, and were introducing from Italy new forms and kinds 
of writing. But the greatest literary movement of the age was 
the development of the drama. Plays were known in England 
long before the new learning came from Italy, but they were 
chiefly religious in character and were offered by the Church for 
the purpose of religious teaching. About the time of Elizabeth's 
accession to the throne, the head master of Eton College wrote 
a play after the manner of the Latin comedies for his boys to 
act on some holiday. Other plays were written reflecting the 
rude and simple life of the time until before the end of Eliza- 
beth's reign the theater was a great institution, and the writing 
of plays was demanding the thought of the greater number of 
literary men. 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

When Shakespeare came to London, he found a group of 
brilliant men writing and acting the plays that were then in 
popular favor. Peele, Greene, Nash, Lyly, and Marlowe were 
among these and into this circle Shakespeare found his way. 
Of some of these he won the displeasure, of others the warm 
regard. It is not certain that he was more popular as a writer 
in his own day than some of the others, but in our day he stands 
preeminent. This greatness, however, is due not to the fact that 
he did what no one else could do but that he did best what 
others did only well. He was not a great man standing alone 
without companionship or rivalry, but one of many working 
with keenest rivalry on the same problems, and the years have 
determined that he was distinctly first. 

IV. 

The Theater of Shakespeare's Time. — When the Eton 
boys gave " Ralph Roister Doister," written for them by their 
head master, Nicholas Udall, they probably performed their 
parts from a platform in one end of their hall, just as we do 
to-day in our private theatricals. But many plays were given 
in small places where there were no suitable halls. We know 
that many plays were given by traveling groups of players, who 
went from town to town wherever they could gather an audi- 
ence. For these players the innyard seems to have been the 
most convenient place for the presentation of the play. It 
was an inclosed court formed by the sides of the inn, which was 
built about the yard. Galleries, reached from one or another 
of the floors of the inn, made a convenient place from which to 
see a performance given below. The play was given on a raised 
platform of some sort and the yard itself could be used by the 
crowds that came in from the street. In London there was a 
demand for a house built for the purpose, and so toward the end 
of the century several theaters were built all upon the plan of 
an innyard. There was an open space called the pit without 



io INTRODUCTION. 

floor or roof, at one end was a covered platform, and around the 
pit were galleries protected from sun and rain by a roof. Young 
gallants sat on the platform or on the stairs where they could 
show off their fine clothes and where often they made a nuisance 
of themselves by getting into the actors' way and sometimes by 
interrupting them. The plays were given in the afternoon and 
the women's parts were taken by boys. 

V. 

The Growth of Shakespeare's Art. — There are very few 
specific records of the presentation of Shakespeare's plays, but 
scholars have examined with great care the evidence that these 
records give and the evidence found in the plays themselves to 
determine the approximate date of each of them. The results of 
this study shows practical agreement with reference to the 
order in which the plays were written. This order is of special 
value in showing us the development of his power. The first 
plays were full of humorous situations, poetic imagery, and 
youthful fancies. They suggest the young man full of fun and 
poetic imagination but without the experiences of life. The 
next plays are chronicle or historical plays and comedies that 
express considerable serious thought. They seem to reflect a 
young man entering into life; interested in the history of his 
country, in the problems of race prejudice, selfish ambitions, 
and the good and bad motives of men's actions. But they show 
him also sympathetic and warm with the passions of youth. 
The third period is the period of ironical comedy and tragedy. 
The darker side of life is held up to us. We see meanness and 
evil in men's minds. We see plottings and murders and awful 
degradations of character. It seems to represent a man who has 
forgotten the pure loves and harmless follies of youth and who 
knows the evil of the world and its bitterness. We need 
not infer that Shakespeare was suffering the torments of un- 
happiness, but merely that for one reason or another he was 



INTRODUCTION. II 

giving his mind over to the consideration of the problems 
of evil. 

Toward the end of his literary life, however, there was a 
change. The four plays called Romances combine the black- 
ness of tragedy with the beauty and happiness of noble achieve- 
ment. "The Tempest" and "The Winter's Tale" show the 
dark and tragic side of life, but these unpleasant pictures are 
followed by scenes of quiet peace and happiness. They seem 
to reflect a man who after a life of stress and storm wins victory 
at last and believes that, though there is evil enough in the 
world, right wins in the end. 

VI. 

The Merchant of Venice. — "The Merchant of Venice" 
belongs to the second group of Shakespeare's plays. Beside the 
elements of comedy it introduces some serious problems. There 
is the warm romantic love of Bassanio for Portia, the difficulties 
to be overcome, and the triumph of true love. There is the 
spectacular torchlight masquerade, and the elopement of 
Jessica, the clownish fun of Launcelot and Gobbo, and the 
rollicking fun of the rings episode. Beside all this there is 
a serious problem of race prejudice. It is this serious element 
that distinguishes "The Merchant of Venice" from the earlier 
comedies like "The Comedy of Errors" and "A Midsummer- 
Night's Dream," and that in the tragic character of Shylock 
gives promise of the great tragedies of the third period. When 
the play was written we do not know, perhaps as early as 1596, 
at least before 1598, for in this year it is mentioned by Meres 
and appears on the register at Stationers' Hall. It was not 
printed, however, until 1600 when it was published with the 
following title: 

"The most excellent Historie of the Merchant of Venice. 
With the extreame crueltie of Shylocke the Iewe towards the 
sayd Merchant, in cutting a iust pound of his flesh; and the 



12 INTRODUCTION. 

obtayning of Portia by the choyse of three chests. As it hath 
beene divers times acted by the Lord Chamberlaine his Servants. 
Written by William Shakespeare. AT LONDON, Printed by 
I. R. for Thomas Heyes, and are to be sold in Paules Church- 
yard, at the signe of the Greene Dragon, 1600." 

It was not printed again until 1623 when it appears in the 
first complete edition of Shakespeare's works called the First 
Folio. There are records to show that it was played before 
James I in 1605 and we know that it has been one of the most 
popular of Shakespeare's plays down to the present time. 

VII. 

Critical Comments on the Characters. — Of Shylock, 
Thomas Campbell remarks (as quoted in Furness's "Variorum 
Shakespeare"), "In the picture of the Jew there is not the 
tragic grandeur of Richard III, but there is a similar force of 
mind, and the same subtlety of intellect, though it is less self- 
ish. In point of courage, I would give the palm to Shylock, 
for he was an ill-used man and the champion of an oppressed 
race: nor is he a hypocrite, like Richard. In fact, Shakespeare, 
whilst he lends himself to the prejudices of Christians against 
Jews, draws so philosophical a picture of the energetic Jewish 
character, that he traces the blame of its faults to the iniquity 
of the Christian world. Shylock's arguments are more logical 
than those of his opponents, and the latter overcome him only 
by a legal quibble. But he is a usurer, and lives on the inter- 
est of lent moneys; and what but Christian persecution forced 
him to live by these means? But he is also inhuman and re- 
vengeful. Why? Because they called him dog, and spat upon 
his Jewish gaberdine. They voided their rheum upon him, and 
he in return wished to void his revenge upon them. All this is 
natural, and Shylock has nothing unnatural about him." Haz- 
litt (" Characters of Shakespeare's Plays") says, "Shylock is a 
good hater, a man no less 'sinned against than sinning.' If he 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

carries his revenge too far, yet he has strong grounds for the 
'lodged hate' he bears Antonio, which he explains with equal 
force of eloquence and reason. . . . There is a strong, deep, 
and quick sense of justice mixed up with the gall and bitter- 
ness of his resentment. The constant apprehension of being 
burnt alive, plundered, banished, reviled, and trampled on, 
might be supposed to sour the most forbearing nature, and to 
take something from that 'milk of human kindness' with which 
his persecutors contemplated his indignities. ... In all his 
answers and retorts upon his adversaries, he has the best, not 
only of the argument, but of the question, reasoning on their 
own principles and practice. They are so far from allowing of 
any measure of equal dealing, of common justice or humanity 
between themselves and the Jew, that even when they come 
to ask a favor of him, and Shylock reminds them that ' on such 
a day they spit upon him, another spurn'd him, another called 
him dog, and for these courtesies request he'll lend them so 
much moneys,' Antonio, his old enemy, instead of any acknowl- 
edgment of the shrewdness and justice of his remonstrance, . . . 
threatens a repetition of the same treatment. . . . After this, 
the appeal to the Jew's mercy, as if there were any common 
principle of right and wrong between them, is the rankest 
hypocrisy or the blindest prejudice." 

Of Portia, Mrs. Jameson ("Characteristics of Women") 
writes, "Portia is endued with her own share of those delightful 
qualities which Shakespeare has lavished on many of his female 
characters, but, besides the dignity and tenderness which should 
distinguish her sex generally, she is individualized by qualities 
peculiar to herself, by her high mental powers, her enthusiasm 
of temperament, her decision of purpose, and her buoyancy of 
spirit. These are innate. She has other distinguishing qualities 
more external, and which are the result of circumstances in which 
she is placed. Thus she is the heiress of a princely name and 
countless wealth; a train of obedient pleasures wait round her; 
and from infancy she has breathed an atmosphere redolent of 



i 4 INTRODUCTION. 

perfume and blandishment. Accordingly there is a command- 
ing grace, a high-bred, airy elegance, a spirit of magnificence, in 
all that she does and says, as one to whom splendor had been 
familiar from her very birth. . . . She is full of penetrative 
wisdom, and genuine tenderness, and lively wit; but as she Jias 
never known want, or grief, or fear, or disappointment, her wis- 
dom is without a touch of the somber or the sad; her affections 
are all mixed up with faith, hope, and joy; and her wit has not a 
particle of malevolence or causticity. . . . The sudden plan 
which she forms for the release of her husband's friend, her dis- 
guise, and her deportment as the young and learned doctor, 
would appear forced and improbable in any other woman, but 
in Portia are the simple and natural result of her character. The 
quickness with which she perceives the legal advantage which 
may be taken of the circumstances; the journey to consult her 
learned cousin the doctor, Bellario; the spirit of adventure with 
which she engages in the masquerading; and the decision, firm- 
ness, and intelligence with which she executes her generous pur- 
pose, — are all in perfect keeping, and nothing appears forced: 
nothing is introduced merely for theatrical effect. But all the 
finest parts of Portia's character are brought to bear in the trial 
scene. . . . Her intellectual powers, her elevated sense of reli- 
gion, her high honorable principles, her best feelings as a woman, 
are all displayed. ... A prominent feature in Portia's charac- 
ter is that confiding buoyant spirit which mingles with all her 
thoughts and affections. . . . Portia's strength of intellect takes 
a natural tinge from the flush and bloom of her young and pros- 
perous existence, and from her fervid imagination. In the casket 
scene she fears, indeed, the issue of the trial on which more than 
her life is hazarded; but while she trembles, her hope is stronger 
than her fear. While Bassanio is contemplating the caskets, she 
suffers herself to dwell for one moment on the possibility of dis- 
appointment and misery. . . . Then immediately follows that 
revolution of feeling so beautifully characteristic of the hopeful, 
trusting, mounting spirit of this noble creature. ... In the 



INTRODUCTION. 15 

last act, Shylock and his machinations being dismissed from our 
thoughts, and the rest of the dramatis persona assembled to- 
gether at Belmont, all our interest and all our attention are 
riveted on Portia, and the conclusion leaves the most delightful 
impression on the fancy. The playful equivoque of the rings, 
the sportive trick she puts on her husband, and her thorough en- 
joyment of the jest, . . . show how little she was displeased by 
the sacrifice of the gift, and are all consistent with her bright 
and buoyant spirit." 

Rev. John Hunter ("Introductory Remarks") portrays An- 
tonio as "a good man, — a man whom we love for his high in- 
tegrity, his disinterested liberality, his devoted friendship; but 
his rashness in signing the bond suggested to the dramatist the 
propriety of characterizing him as deficient in worldly prudence; 
and, too easy and unwary in his dealings with mankind, . . . 
he thought lightly of the condition stipulated in the bond; he was 
imprudent in allowing himself to forget, or in failing to exert 
himself that he might be prepared for the day of payment; he 
was incautious in venturing the whole of his wealth in argosies 
upon the ocean. That he was a rich merchant, we may suppose 
to have been owing more to patrimonial inheritance than to his 
own mercantile sagacity and success." 

"Bassanio," says W. W. Lloyd ("Critical Essay"), "has lived 
like a prodigal, run in debt with his friends, and now coolly pro- 
poses to his chief creditor to make a serious addition to his debt 
on the speculation that it will give him a chance to pay all by 
that very precarious as well as undignified resort of making up 
to an heiress. How is it that in reading the play we never with- 
draw our sympathy from the hero of transactions that affect us 
in common life with the unpleasant associations of dissipation, 
imprudence, impudence, and meanness? The reason, I appre- 
hend, is partly because we are reading a romance, and we ac- 
cept the compatibility of whatever phenomena the poet chooses 
to group in the moral as in the material world. Portia has faith 
that the lottery of the caskets will give her infallibly the husband 



16 INTRODUCTION. 

who deserves her, and we are not disposed to check agreeable 
sympathy with the generous liberality, in mind and purse, of the 
Merchant of Venice, by any mistrust, shabby it would seem to 
us, of the desert of his friends or the cooperation of natural 
chances with his free intentions. Character gives confidence; 
truth is bondsman for troth. We believe Bassanio on the same 
ground that Antonio does; we approve of the consent of Antonio 
on the same grounds that made Bassanio think it not wrong to 
ask it. . . . Soundness at heart in a recipient makes imprudence 
prudent; and our faith is made happy when Bassanio, who has 
nothing either to give or hazard, chooses the casket of least 
promising exterior. . . . Even in setting forth his project to 
Antonio, the leading tone of his description makes her wealth 
but one accessory of her attractions; and, as a lover should, he 
passes on with more fervor to observe, ' And she is fair;' and yet 
again to the crowning praise which no lover of Portia could over- 
look and be worthy, 'and, fairer than that word, of wondrous 
virtues.' Hence we confide most absolutely in the ingenuousness 
of Bassanio; and if he appears to engage his friend somewhat in- 
considerately to a bond, ... we are prepared to ascribe this to 
the eagerness of a lover who has such cause to love as encourage- 
ment from Portia." 



THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



PERSONS OF THE PLAY. 



Duke of Venice. 
Prince of Morocco, ) suitors to 
Prince of Arragon, S Portia. 
Antonio, the Merchant of Venice. 
Bassanio, his friend. 

f friends to Antonio and 
Salarino, > J 

„ \ Bassanio. 

G RATI AN O, J 

Lorenzo, in love with Jessica. 
Shylock, a rich Jew. 
Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 
Launcelot Gobbo, a clown. 



servants to Portia. 



Old Gobbo, father to Launcelot. 

Salerio, a messenger. 

Leonardo, servant to Bassanio. 

'Balthasar, 

Stephano, 

Portia, a rich heiress. 

Nerissa, her waiting maid. 

Jessica, daughter to Shylock. 

Magnificoes of Venice, Officers of the 
Court of Justice, Gaoler, Servants, 
and other Attendants. 



Scene : Partly at Venice; and partly at Belmont, the seat of Portia, on the 

Continent. 



ACT I. 



Scene I. Venice. A Street. 



Enter Antonio, Salarino, and Salanio. 

Antonio. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad 
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; 
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, 
I am to learn ; 

And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, 
That I have much ado to know myself. 

i7 



1 8 SHAKESPEARE. [act I. 

Salarino. Your mind is tossing on the ocean ; 
There, where your argosies 1 with portly sail, 
Like signiors and rich burghers on the flood, 
Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea, 2 
Do overpeer the petty traffickers, 
That curtsy to them, do them reverence, 
As they fly by them with their woven wings. 

Salanio. Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth, 
The better part of my affections would 
Be with my hopes abroad. I should be still 
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the wind, 
Peering in maps for ports and piers and roads ; 
And every object that might make me fear 
Misfortune to my ventures, out of doubt 
Would make me sad. 

Salarino. My wind cooling my broth 

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
What harm a wind too great at sea might do. 
I should not see the sandy hourglass 3 run, 
But I should think of shallows and of flats, 
And see my wealthy Andrew 4 dock'd in sand, 
Vailing her high-top lower than her ribs 
To kiss her burial. Should I go to church 
And see the holy edifice of stone, 

1 Argosies were large ships, generally mercantile vessels, though ships of 
war were sometimes so called. The derivation of the name is uncertain; 
possibly from "Argo," the mythical ship which carried Jason and his com- 
panions to Colchis in search of the Golden Fleece. 

2 " Pageants of the sea," a comparison of Antonio's vessels to the huge 
images of towers, castles, ships, giants, etc., paraded in the street shows or 
pageants of London. 

3 Watches and clocks were novelties in England, and hourglasses were 
still in use, at the close of the sixteenth century. 

4 Andrea Doria was a famous admiral of Genoa, who died in 1560. It is 
not unlikely that his name, in Shakespeare's time, was in common use to 
designate Italian ships of the largest size and best class. 



scene i.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 19 

And not bethink me straight of dangerous rocks, 
Which touching but my gentle vessel's side, 
Would scatter all her spices on the stream, 
Enrobe the roaring waters with my silks, 
And, in a word, but even now worth this, 
And now worth nothing? Shall I have the thought 
To think on this, and shall I lack the thought 
That such a thing bechanc'd would make me sad ? 
But tell not me ; I know, Antonio 
Is sad to think upon his merchandise. 

Antonio. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune for it, 
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
Nor to one place ; nor is my whole estate 
Upon the fortune of this present year : 
Therefore my merchandise makes me not sad. 

Salarino. Why, then you are in love. 

Antonio. Fie, fie ! 

Salarino. Not in love neither? Then let us say you are sad, 
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry, 
Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, 1 
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time : 
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes 
And laugh like parrots at a bagpiper, 
And other of such vinegar aspect 2 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, 
Though Nestor 3 swear the jest be laughable. 

1 This two-faced god of the Romans presided over gates and avenues. 
On some images he is shown with one sad and one laughing countenance. 

2 This word is always accented on the latter syllable in Shakespeare's 
verse. 

3 A Grecian hero renowned for his wisdom, prudence, and great age. 



20 SHAKESPEARE. [act i. 

Enter Bassanio, Lorenzo, and Gratiano. 

Salanio. Here comes Bassanio, your most noble kinsman, 
Gratiano and Lorenzo. Fare ye well : 
We leave you now with better company. 

Salarino. I would have staid till I had made you merry, 
If worthier friends had not prevented me. 

Antonio. Your worth is very dear in my regard. 
I take it, your own business calls on you 
And you embrace the occasion to depart. 

Salarino. Good morrow, my good lords. 

Bassanio. Good signiors both, when shall we laugh ? say, 
when ? 
You grow exceeding strange : must it be so ? 

Salarino. We'll make our leisures to attend on yours. 

\Exeunt Salarino and Salanio. 

Lorenzo. My Lord Bassanio, since you have found Antonio, 
We two will leave you : but at dinner time, 
I pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 

Bassanio. I will not fail you. 

Gratiano. You look not well, Signior Antonio ; 
You have too much respect upon 1 the world : 
They lose it that do buy it with much care : 
Believe me, you are marvelously chang'd. 

Antonio. I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano ; 
A stage where every man must play a part, 
And mine a sad one. 

Gratiano. Let me play the fool : 

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come, 
And let my liver rather heat with wine 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? 

1 " Respect upon," i.e., regard for. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 21 

Sleep when he wakes and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio — 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks — 
There are a sort of men whose visages 
Do cream and mantle like a standing pond, 
And do a willful stillness entertain, 
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit, 1 
As who should say, " I am Sir Oracle, 
And when I ope my lips let no dog bark ! " 

my Antonio, I do know of these 
That therefore only are reputed wise 

For saying nothing, when, I am very sure, 

If they should speak, would almost damn those ears 

Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools. 

I'll tell thee more of this another time : 

But fish not, with this melancholy bait, 

For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. 

Come, good Lorenzo. Fare ye well awhile : 

I'll end my exhortation after dinner. 

Lorenzo. Well, we will leave you then till dinner time : 

1 must be one of these same dumb wise men, 
For Gratiano never lets me speak. 

Gratiano. Well, keep me company but two years moe, 2 
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own tongue. 

A?ito7iio. Farewell : I'll grow a talker for this gear. 

Gratiano. Thanks, i' faith, for silence is only commendable 
In a neat's tongue 3 dri'd and a maid not vendible. 

\Exeunt Gratiano and Lorenzo. 

Antonio. Is that anything now ? 

1 " With purpose," etc., i.e., designing thereby to acquire a reputation 
for wisdom, gravity, and profound thought. 

2 An old form of " more." 

3 A neat's tongue is the tongue of an ox, bull, or cow, — what we call a 
" beef's tongue." 



2 2 SHAKESPEARE. [act i. 

Bassanio. Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more 
than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of 
wheat hid in two bushels of chaff : you shall seek all day ere 
you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the 
search. 

" Antonio. Well, tell me now what lady is the same 
To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, 
That you to-day promis'd to tell me of ? 

Bassanio. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
How much I have disabled mine estate, 
By something showing a more swelling port 1 
Than my faint means would grant continuance : 
Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd 
From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
Is to come fairly off from the great debts 
Wherein my time something too prodigal 
Hath left me gag'd. To you, Antonio, 
I owe the most, in money and in love, 
And from your love I have a warranty 
To unburden all my plots and purposes 
How to get clear of all the debts I owe. 

Antonio. I pray you, good Bassanio, let me know it ; 
And if it stand, as you yourself still do, 
Within the eye of honor, be assur'd, 
My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions. 

Bassanio. In my school days, when I had lost one shaft, 
I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight 
The selfsame way with more advised watch, 
To find the other forth, and by adventuring both 
I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof, 
Because what follows is pure innocence. 

1 "Something showing," etc., i.e., somewhat more extravagant style of 
living. 



scene i.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 23 

I owe you much, and, like a willful youth, 
That which I owe is lost ; but if you please 
To shoot another arrow that self 1 way 
Which you did shoot the first, I do not doubt, 
As I will watch the aim, or to find both 
Or bring your latter hazard back again 
And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 

Antonio. You know me well, and herein spend but time 
To wind about my love with circumstance ; 2 
And out of doubt you do me now more wrong 
In making question of my uttermost 
Than if you had made waste of all I have : 
Then do but say to me what I should do 
That in your knowledge may by me be done, 
And I am prest unto it : therefore, speak. 

Bassanio. In Belmont is a lady richly left ; 
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word, 
Of wondrous virtues : sometimes from her eyes 
I did receive fair speechless messages : 
Her name is Portia, nothing undervalued 
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia : 
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth, 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 
Renowned suitors, and her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece ; 
Which makes her seat of Belmont Colchos' 3 strond, 4 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 
O my Antonio, had I but the means 

1 Same. 2 Round-about talking. 

" In the grove of Ares (Mars) at JEa, afterwards called Colchis or Col- 
chos, was suspended the Golden Fleece, guarded by a dragon. In quest of 
this, Jason, accompanied by several of the great heroes of the age, sailed in 
the 'Argo,' and aided by Medea, the daughter of the King of Colchos, suc- 
ceeded in carrying it off." 

4 Strand. 



24 SHAKESPEARE. [ACT I. 

To hold a rival place with one of them, 
I have a mind presages me such thrift, 
That I should questionless be fortunate! 

Antonio. Thou know'st that all my fortunes are at sea ; 
Neither have I money nor commodity 
To raise a present sum : therefore go forth ; 
Try what my credit can in Venice do : 
That shall be rack'd, even to the uttermost, 
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 
Where money is, and I no question make 
To have it of my trust or for my sake. [Exeunt. 



Scene II. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Portia. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body is aweary of this 
great world. 

Nerissa. You would be, sweet madam, if your miseries were 
in the same abundance as your good fortunes are : and yet, for 
aught I see, they are as sick that surfeit with too much as they 
that starve with nothing. It is no mean 1 happiness therefore, to 
be seated in the mean : superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, 
but competency lives longer. 

Portia. Good sentences and well pronounc'd. 

Nerissa. They would be better, if well followed. 

Portia. If to do were as easy as to know what were good to 
do, chapels had been churches and poor men's cottages princes' 
palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions : 
I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be 
one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching. The brain may 
devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold 
decree: such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er the 

1 Small. 



scene II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 25 

meshes of good counsel the cripple. But this reasoning is not in 
the fashion to choose me a husband. O me, the word " choose! " 
I may neither choose whom I would nor refuse whom I dislike ; 
so is the will of a living daughter curb'd by the will of a dead 
father. Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot choose one nor 
refuse none ? 

Nerissa. Your father was ever virtuous; and holy men at 
their death have good inspirations : therefore the lottery, that he 
hath devised in these three chests of gold, silver, and lead, where- 
of who chooses his meaning chooses you, will, no doubt, never 
be chosen by any rightly but one who shall rightly love. But 
what warmth is there in your affection towards any of these 
princely suitors that are already come ? 

Portia. I pray thee, overname them ; and as thou namest 
them, I will describe them ; and, according to my description, 
level at my affection. 

Nerissa. First, there is the Neapolitan prince. 

Portia. Ay, that's a colt indeed, for he doth nothing but talk 
of his horse ; and he makes it a great appropriation to his own 
good parts, that he can shoe him himself. 

Nerissa. Then there is the County Palatine. 1 

Portia. He doth nothing but frown, as who would say, " If you 
will not have me, choose:" he hears merry tales and smiles not: 
I fear he will prove the weeping philosopher 2 when he grows old, 
being so full of unmannerly sadness in his youth. I had rather 
be married to a death's-head with a bone in his mouth than to 
either of these. God defend me from these two ! 



1 "Count" and "County" are used indifferently by Shakespeare. A 
Count Palatine, or Count of the Palace, was a title that came to be applied 
" to governors of provinces who had full regal powers. These were princi- 
pally border provinces, such as Lancaster, Chester, and Durham in England." 

2 "Weeping philosopher" refers to Heraclitus, a celebrated Greek, who 
lived five hundred years before the Christian era. He was known as the 
mourner or obscure philosopher from his unconquerable custom of weeping 
at the follies and vicissitudes of human affairs. 



26 SHAKESPEARE. [act i. 

Nerissa. How say you by the French lord, Monsieur le Bon? 

Portia. God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. 
In truth, I know it is a sin to be a mocker: but, he ! why, he 
hath a horse better than the Neapolitan's, a better bad habit of 
frowning than the Count Palatine ; he is every man in no man ; 
if a throstle 1 sing, he falls straight a capering: he will fence with 
his own shadow : if I should marry him, I should marry twenty 
husbands. If he would despise me, I would forgive him, for if 
he love me to madness, I shall never requite him. 

Nerissa. What say you, then, to Falconbridge, the young 
baron of England ? 

Portia. You know I say nothing to him, for he understands 
not me, nor I him : he hath neither Latin, French, nor Italian, 
and you will come into the court and swear that I have a poor 
pennyworth in the English. He is a proper man's picture, but, 
alas, who can converse with a dumb show ? How oddly he is 
suited ! I think he bought his doublet in Italy, his round hose 
in France, his bonnet in Germany, and his behavior everywhere. 

Nerissa. What think you of the Scottish lord, his neighbor ? 

Portia. That he hath a neighborly charity in him, for he bor- 
rowed a box of the ear of the Englishman and swore he would 
pay him again when he was able : I think the Frenchman became 
his surety and seal'd under for another. 2 

Nerissa. How like you the young German, the Duke of Sax- 
ony's nephew ? 

Portia. Very vilely in the morning, when he is sober, and 
most vilely in the afternoon, when he is drunk : when he is best, 
he is a little worse than a man, and when he is worst, he is little 
better than a beast : an 3 the worst fall that ever fell, I hope I 
shall make shift to go without him. 

Nerissa. If he should offer to choose, and choose the right 
casket, you should 4 refuse to perform your father's will, if you 
should refuse to accept him. 

1 An old diminutive of " thrush." 

2 " The principal was said to ' seal to ' a bond ; his surety ' sealed under.' " 

3 If. 4 Would, 



scene ii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 27 

Portia. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I pray thee, set a 
deep glass of rhenish wine on the contrary casket, for if the devil 
be within and that temptation without, I know he will choose it. 
I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I'll be married to a sponge. 

Nerissa. You need not fear, lady, the having any of these 
lords: they have acquainted me with their determinations; 
which is, indeed, to return to their home and to trouble you with 
no more suit, unless you may be won by some other sort than 
your father's imposition depending on the caskets. 

Portia. If I live to be as old as Sibylla, 1 I will die as chaste as 
Diana, 2 unless I be obtained by the manner of my father's will. 
I am glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable, for there is 
not one among them but I dote on his very absence, and I pray 
God grant them a fair departure. 

Nerissa. Do you not remember, lady, in your father's time, a 
Venetian, a scholar and a soldier, that came hither in company 
of the Marquis of Montferrat ? 

Portia. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio ; as I think, he was so call'd. 

Nerissa. True, madam : he, of all the men that ever my fool- 
ish eyes look'd upon, was the best deserving a fair lady. 

Portia. I remember him well, and I remember him worthy of 
thy praise. 

Enter a Serving-man. 

How now ! what news ? 

Servant. The four strangers seek for you, madam, to take 
their leave: and there is a forerunner come from a fifth, the 
Prince of Morocco, who brings word the prince his master will 
be here to-night. 

1 The Sibyllae were certain prophetic women who flourished in different 
parts of the world. Portia refers to the Sibyl of Curaa in Italy, to whom 
Apollo granted her demand to live as many years as she had grains of sand 
in her hand. 

2 The goddess of hunting, and also, according to some mythologists, per- 
sonifying Luna or the moon. She was the daughter of Jupiter, and obtained 
from her father permission to live in perpetual celibacy. 



28 SHAKESPEARE. [act I. 

Portia. If I could bid the fifth welcome with so good a heart 
as I can bid the other four farewell, I should be glad of his ap- 
proach : if he have the condition * of a saint and the complexion 
of a devil, I had rather he should shrive me than wive me. 
Come, Nerissa. Sirrah, go before. 

Whiles we shut the gates upon one wooer, another knocks at the 
door. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. Venice. A Public Place. 

Enter Bassanio and Shylock. 

Shy lock. Three thousand ducats ; well. 

Bassanio. Ay, sir, for three months. 

Shylock. For three months ; well. 

Bassanio. For the which, as I told you, Antonio shall be 
bound. 

Shylock. Antonio shall become bound ; well. 

Bassanio. May you stead me ? will you pleasure me ? shall I 
know your answer ? 

Shylock. Three thousand ducats for three months and Anto- 
nio bound. 

Bassanio. Your answer to that. 

Shylock. Antonio is a good man. 

Bassanio. Have you heard any imputation to the contrary ? 

Shylock. Oh, no, no, no, no : my meaning in saying he is a 
good man is to have you understand me that he is sufficient. 
Yet his means are in supposition : he hath an argosy bound to 
Tripolis, another to the Indies ; I understand, moreover, upon 
the Rialto, 2 he hath a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, and 
other ventures he hath, squand'red 3 abroad. But ships are but 

1 That is, qualities. Frequently used in this sense by Shakespeare. 

2 Rialto was the Venetian island where merchants met for business trans- 
actions. The name is derived from riva alta ("a high bank"), the island 
being the highest of the group on which the city is built. 

3 Scattered ; not used in a sense implying waste. 



scene in.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 29 

boards, sailors but men : there be land rats and water rats, land 
thieves and water thieves, I mean pirates, and then there is the 
peril of waters, winds and rocks. The man is, notwithstanding, 
sufficient. Three thousand ducats ; I think I may take his bond. 

Bassanio. Be assured you may. 

Shy lock. I will be assured I may ; and, that I may be assured, 
I will bethink me. May I speak with Antonio? 

Bassanio. If it please you to dine with us. 

Shy lock. Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which 
your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. 1 I will buy 
with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so fol- 
lowing, but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with 
you. What news on the Rialto? Who is he comes here ? 

Enter Antonio. 

Bassanio. This is Signior Antonio. 

Shy lock. [Aside] How like a fawning publican 2 he looks ! 
I hate him for he is a Christian, 
But more for that in low simplicity 
He lends out money gratis and brings down 
The rate of usance 3 here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 4 
I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe, 
If I forgive him! 

Bassanio. Shylock, do you hear? 

Shylock. I am debating of my present store, 

1 See Matt. viii. 28-32. 

2 Under Roman rule, publicans were the taxgatherers to whom the col- 
lection of taxes in the provinces was farmed or rented by the Imperial Govern- 
ment. 3 Interest; usury. 

4 " Catch him," etc., i.e., take him at disadvantage. It is a phrase from 
wrestling. 



3 o SHAKESPEARE. [act i. 

And, by the near guess of my memory, 

I cannot instantly raise up the gross 

Of full three thousand ducats. What of that ? 

Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe, 

Will furnish me. But soft ! how many months 

Do you desire ? \To Antonio] Rest you fair, good signior; 

Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 

Antonio. Shylock, although I neither lend nor borrow 
By taking nor by giving of excess, 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants of my friend, 
I'll break a custom. Is he yet possess'd 1 
How much ye would ? 

Shylock. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Antonio. And for three months. 

Shylock. I had forgot ; three months ; you told me so. 
Well, then, your bond ; and let me see ; but hear you ; 
Methought you said you neither lend nor borrow 
Upon advantage. 

Antonio. I do never use it. 2 

Shylock. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban's sheep — 
This Jacob from our holy Abram was, 
As his wise mother wrought in his behalf, 
The third possessor ; ay, he was the third — 

Antonio. And what of him ? did he take interest ? 

Shylock. No, not take interest, not, as you would say, 
Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
When Laban and himself were compromis'd 3 
That all the eanlings 4 which were streak'd and pied 5 
Should fall as Jacob's hire, 
The skillful shepherd peel'd me certain wands 
And stuck them up before the fulsome ewes, 
Who then conceiving did in eaning time 

1 Informed. 2 " I do never use it," i.e., it is not my use or custom. 

3 Agreed. 4 Newly born lambs. 5 Party-colored. 



scene in.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 31 

Fall party-color'd lambs, and those were Jacob's. 
This was a way to thrive, and he was blest : 
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 1 

Antonio. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob serv'd for ; 
A thing not in his power to bring to pass, 
But sway'd and fashion'd by the hand of heaven. 
Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
Or is your gold and silver ewes and rams ? 

Shy lock. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast : 
But note me, signior. 

Antonio. Mark you this, Bassanio, 

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul producing holy witness 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart : ' 
Oh, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 

Shy lock. Three thousand ducats ; 'tis a good round sum. 
Three months from twelve ; then, let me see ; the rate — 

Antonio. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholding 2 to you ? 

Shylock. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft 
In the Rialto you have rated me 
About my moneys and my usances : 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug, 
For suff'rance is the badge of all our tribe. 
You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
And all for use of that which is mine own. 
Well then, it now appears you need my help : 
Go to, 3 then ; you come to me, and you say, 
" Shylock, we would have moneys : " you say so ; 

1 See Gen. xxx. 27-43. 

2 This word in the sense of beholden (" obliged") is frequently met with 
in Shakespeare and other Elizabethan writers. 

3 " Go to," a phrase of reproof here, is used in various senses by old 
authors as an exclamation of impatience, encouragement, expostulation, etc. 



3 2 SHAKESPEARE. [ACT I. 

You, that did void your rheum upon my beard 
And foot x me as you spurn a stranger cur 
Over your threshold : moneys is your suit. 
What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 
" Hath a dog money ? is it possible 
A cur can lend three thousand ducats ? " Or 
Shall I bend low and in a bondman's key, 
With bated breath and whisp'ring humbleness, 
Say this ; 

" Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last ; 
You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
You calPd me dog ; and for these courtesies 
I'll lend you thus much moneys " ? 

Antonio. I am as like to call thee so again, 
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
As to thy friends ; for when did friendship take 
A breed for barren metal of his friend ? 
But lend it rather to thine enemy, 
Who, if he break, thou mayst with better face 
Exact the penalty. 

Shy lock. Why, look you, how you storm ! 

I would be friends with you and have your love, 
Forget the shames that you have stain'd me with, 
Supply your present wants and take no doit 2 
Of usance for my moneys, and you'll not hear me : 
This is kind' 3 I offer. 

Bassanio. This were kindness. 

Shy lock. This kindness will I show. 

Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport, 

i Kick. 

2 " No doit," i.e., " not a cent," as we would express it. A doit was a 
German coin of trifling value. 

3 Kindness. 



scene III.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 33 

If you repay me not on such a day, 

In such a place, such sum or sums as are 

Express'd in the condition, let the forfeit 

Be nominated for an equal pound 

Of your fair flesh, to be cut off and taken 

In what part of your body pleaseth me. 

Antonio. Content, i' faith : I'll seal to such a bond 
And say there is much kindness in the Jew. 

jBassanio. You shall not seal to such a bond for me : 
I'll rather dwell x in my necessity. 

Antonio. Why, fear not, man ; I will not forfeit it : 
Within these two months, that's a month before 
This bond expires, I do expect return 
Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 

Shylock. O father Abram, what these Christians are, 
Whose own hard dealings teaches them 2 suspect 
The thoughts of others ! Pray you, tell me this ; 
If he should break his day, what should I gain 
By the exaction of the forfeiture ? 
A pound of man's flesh taken from a man 
Is not so estimable, profitable neither, 
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
To buy his favor, I extend this friendship : 
If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. 

Antonio. Yes, Shylock, I will seal unto this bond. 

Shylock. Then meet me forthwith at the notary's ; 
Give him direction for this merry bond, 
And I will go and purse the ducats straight, 
See to my house, left in the fearful 3 guard 
Of an unthrifty knave, and presently 
I will be with you. 

1 Continue. 

2 " Teaches them," i.e., " teach them to," as would nowadays be written. 

3 Doubtful. 



34 SHAKESPEARE. [act ii. 

Antonio. Hie thee, gentle Jew. [Exit Shylock. 

The Hebrew will turn Christian : he grows kind. 

Bassanio. I like not fair terms and a villain's mind. 

Antonio. Come on : in this there can be no dismay ; 
My ships come home a month before the day. [Exeunt. 



t 



ACT II. 

Scene I. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Morocco and his train; 
Portia, Nerissa, and others attending. « 

Morocco. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
The shadow'd livery of the burnish'd sun, 
To whom I am a neighbor and near bred. 
Bring me the fairest creature northward born, 
Where Phcebus' 1 fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
And let us make incision for your love, 
To prove whose blood is reddest, his or mine. 
I tell thee, lady, this aspect of mine 
Hath fear'd 2 the valiant : by my love, I swear 
The best-regarded virgins of our clime 
Have lov'd it too : I would not change this hue, 
Except to steal your thoughts, my gentle queen. 

Portia. In terms of choice I am not solely led 
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes : 
Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
Bars me the right of voluntary choosing: 
But if my father had not scanted me 
And hedg'd me by his wit, to yield myself 
His wife who wins me by that means I told you, 
Yourself, renowned prince, then stood as fair 

1 Phoebus was one of the names given to the sun in ancient mythology. 

2 " Fear'd the valiant," i.e., caused the valiant to fear. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OE VENICE. 35 

As any comer I have look'd on yet 
For my affection. 

Morocco. Even for that I thank you: 

Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets 
To try my fortune. By this scimiter 
That slew the Sophy l and a Persian prince 
That won three fields of Sultan Solyman, 2 
I would outstare the sternest eyes that look, 
Outbrave the heart most daring on the earth, 
Pluck the young sucking cubs from the she-bear, 
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 
To win thee, lady. But, alas the while! 
If Hercules 3 and Lichas play at dice 
Which is the better man, the greater throw 
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
So is Alcides beaten by his page ; 
And so may I, blind fortune leading me, 
Miss that which one unworthier may attain, 
And die with grieving. 

Portia. You must take your chance, 

And either not attempt to choose at all 
Or swear before you choose, if you choose wrong 
Never to speak to lady afterward 
In way of marriage : therefore be advis'd. 4 

Morocco. Nor will not. Come bring me unto my chance. 

Portia. First, forward to the temple : aftei dinner 
Your hazard shall be made. 

1 An old word signifying " wise man." It was formerly applied to one 
skillful in natural magic, and afterwards became the common name of the 
Emperor of Persia. 

2 Sultan Solyman, the Magnificent, was defeated by. the Persians in 

1535- 

3 Hercules was a celebrated hero of antiquity, who, after his death, was 
ranked among the gods. He is sometimes called "Alcides," being a descend- 
ant of Alceus. Lichas was a servant of Hercules. 

4 " Be advis'd," i.e., consider well. 



36 SHAKESPEARE. [act II. 

Morocco. Good fortune then ! 

To make me blest or cursed'st among men. 

[Comets, and exeunt. 

Scene II. Venice. A Street. 

Enter Launcelot. 

Launcelot. Certainly my conscience will serve me to run from 
this Jew my master. The fiend is at mine elbow and tempts me 
saying to me, " Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot," or 
" good Gobbo," or " good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take 
the start, run away." My conscience says, " No ; take heed, 
honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo," or, as aforesaid, 
" honest Launcelot Gobbo ; do not run ; scorn running with thy 
heels." Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack : " Via ! " 
says the fiend ; " away ! " says the fiend ; " for the heavens, 
rouse up a brave mind," says the fiend, "and run." Well, my 
conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely 
to me, " My honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's 
son," or rather an honest woman's son; well, my conscience 
says, " Launcelot, budge not." " Budge," says the fiend. " Budge 
not," says my conscience. " Conscience," say I, " you counsel 
well; " " Fiend," say I, "you counsel well: " to be rul'd by my 
conscience, I should stay with the Jew my master, who, God 
bless the mark, is a kind of devil ; and, to run away from the 
Jew, I should be rul'd by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, 
is the devil himself. Certainly the Jew is the very devil incar- 
nal ; x and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard 
conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew. The 
fiend gives the more friendly counsel : I will run, fiend ; my heels 
are at your command ; I will run. 

1 Launcelot means " incarnate." His diction, as well as that of his father 
Gobbo, abounds with barbarisms equally ridiculous. 



scene II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 37 

Enter Old Gobbo with a basket. 

Gobbo. Master young man, you, I pray you, which is the way 
to Master Jew's ? 

Launcelot. [Aside] O heavens, this is my true-begotten father! 
who, being more than sand-blind, 1 high-gravel blind, knows me 
not : I will try confusions with him. 

Gobbo. Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the 
way to Master Jew's ? 

Launcelot. Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, 
but, at the next turning of all, on your left ; marry, 2 at the very 
next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to the 
Jew's house. 

Gobbo. By God's sonties, 3 'twill be a hard way to hit. Can 
you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell 
with him or no ? 

Launcelot. Talk you of young Master Launcelot ? [Aside] 
Mark me now ; now will I raise the waters. Talk you of young 
Master Launcelot ? 

Gobbo. No master, sir, but a poor man's son: his father, 
though I say it, is an honest exceeding poor man, and, God be 
thanked, well to live. 

Launcelot. Well, let his father be what a' will, we talk of 
young Master Launcelot. 

Gobbo. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. 

Launcelot. But I pray you, ergo, old man, ergo, I beseech you, 
talk you of young Master Launcelot ? 

Gobbo. Of Launcelot, an't please your mastership. 

Launcelot. Ergo, Master Launcelot. Talk not of Master 
Launcelot, father ; for the young gentleman, according to Fates 
and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three 4 and such 

1 Partially blind ; purblind. 

2 A contraction of an old imprecation, " By the Virgin Mary." 

3 Possibly Gobbo means " saints." 

4 In Greek mythology the Three Sisters, or Fates, — Clotho, Lachesis, and 
Atropos, — spun the thread of each human being's life. The first wound the 



38 SHAKESPEARE. [act ii. 

branches of learning, is indeed deceased, or, as you would say in 
plain terms, gone to heaven. 

Gobbo. Marry, God forbid ! the boy was the very staff of my 
age, my very prop. 

Launcelot. Do I look like a cudgel or a hovel-post, a staff or a 
prop ? Do you know me, father ? 

Gobbo. Alack the day, I know you not, young gentleman : but, 
I pray you, tell me, is my boy, God rest his soul, alive or dead ? 

Launcelot. Do you not know me, father ? 

Gobbo. Alack, sir, I am sand-blind ; I know you not. 

Launcelot. Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail 
of the knowing me : it is a wise father that knows his own child. 
Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son : give me your 
blessing : truth will come to light ; murder cannot be hid long ; 
a man's son may, but at the length truth will out. 

Gobbo. Pray you, sir, stand up : I am sure you are not 
Launcelot, my boy. 

Launcelot. Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but 
give me your blessing : I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your 
son that is, your child that shall be. 

Gobbo. I cannot think you are my son. 

Laimcelot. I know not what I shall think of that : but I am 
Launcelot, the Jew's man, and I am sure Margery your wife is 
my mother. 

Gobbo. Her name is Margery, indeed : I'll be sworn, if thou 
be Launcelot, thou art mine own flesh and blood. Lord wor- 
ship'd might he be ! what a beard hast thou got! thou hast got 
more hair on thy chin than Dobbin my fill horse 1 has on his tail. 

Launcelot. It should seem, then, that Dobbin's tail grows 
backward : I am sure he had more hair of his tail than I have 
of my face when I last saw him. 

flax on the distaff ready for the second to spin, while the third cut the thread 
upon the termination of the individual's career. 

1 " Fill horse," i.e., the shaft horse, the horse that is placed between the 
thills or shafts of the vehicle. 



scene ii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 39 

Gobbo. Lord, how art thou chang'd ! How dost thou and 
thy master agree ? I have brought him a present. How 'gree 
you now ? 

Launcelot. Well, well : but, for mine own part, as I have set 
up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some 
ground. My master's a very Jew: give him a present! give 
him a halter : I am famish'd in his service ; you may tell every 
finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come : 
give me your present to one Master Bassanio, who, indeed, gives 
rare new liveries : if I serve not him, I will run as far as God 
has any ground. O rare fortune ! here comes the man : to him, 
father ; for I am a Jew, if I serve the Jew any longer. 

Enter Bassanio, with Leonardo and other followers. 

Bassanio. You may do so ; but let it be so hasted that supper 
be ready at the farthest by five of the clock. See these letters 
delivered ; put the liveries to making, and desire Gratiano to 
come anon to my lodging. [Exit a Servant. 

Launcelot. To him, father. 

Gobbo. God bless your worship ! 

Bassanio. Gramercy, would 'st thou aught with me ? 

Gobbo. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy, — 

Launcelot. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich Jew's man ; that 
would, sir, as my father shall specify — 

Gobbo. He hath a great infection, 1 sir, as one would say, to 
serve, — 

Launcelot. Indeed, the short and the long is, I serve the Jew, 
and have a desire, as my father shall specify — 

Gobbo. His master and he, saving your worship's reverence, 
are scarce cater-cousins 2 — 

Launcelot. To be brief, the very truth is that the Jew, having 

1 Affection ; that is, desire. 

2 " Scarce cater-cousins " means here " not on good terms." Cater-cou- 
sins are cousins by courtesy, friendship cousins. 



40 SHAKESPEARE. [act ii. 

done me wrong, doth cause me, as my father, being, I hope, an 
old man, shall frutify 1 unto you — 

Gobbo. I have here a dish of doves that I would bestow upon 
your worship, and my suit is — 

Laimcelot. In very brief, the suit is impertinent 2 to myself, as 
your worship shall know by this honest old man ; and, though I 
say it, though old man, yet poor man, my father. 

Bassanio. One speak for both. What would you ? 

Laimcelot. Serve you, sir. 

Gobbo. That is the very defect 3 of the matter, sir. 

Bassanio. I know thee well ; thou hast obtain'd thy suit : 
Shylock thy master spoke with me this day, 
And hath preferr'd thee, if it be preferment 
To leave a rich Jew's service, to become 
The follower of so poor a gentleman. 

Laimcelot. The old proverb is very well parted between my 
master Shylock and you, sir: you have the grace of God, and 
he hath enough. 4 

Bassanio. Thou speak'st it well. Go, father, with thy son. 
Take leave of thy old master and inquire 
My lodging out. Give him a livery 
More guarded 5 than his fellows' : see it done. 

Laimcelot. Father, in. I cannot get a service, no ; I have 
ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in Italy have a 
fairer table 6 which doth offer to swear upon a book, I shall have 
good fortune. Go to, here's a simple line of life ; here's a small 
trifle of wives: alas, fifteen wives is nothing! eleven widows and 
nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man : and then to 'scape 

l Specify. 2 Pertinent. 3 Effect. 

4 The Scotch form of the old proverb is, " The grace of God is gear 
enough." 

5 " More guarded," i.e., more gaudily trimmed. 

6 "Fairer table:" Launcelot is well up in palmistry, and examines his 
hand to account for his present good fortune, and to learn what he is to look 
for in the future. 



scene ii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 41 

drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life with the edge of 
a feather bed ; here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a 
woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father, come ; I'll 
take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye. 

{Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo. 

Bassanio. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think on this : 
These things being bought and orderly bestow'd, 
Return in haste, for I do feast to-night 
My best-esteem'd acquaintance : hie thee, go. 

Leonardo, My best endeavors shall be done herein. 

Enter Gratiano. 

Gratiano. Where is your master ? 

Leonardo. Yonder, sir, he walks. [Exit. 

Gratiano. Signior Bassanio ! 

Bassanio. Gratiano ! 

Gratiano. I have a suit to you. 

Bassanio. You have obtain' d it. 

Gratiano. You must not deny me : I must go with you to 
Belmont. 

Bassanio. Why, then you must. But hear thee, Gratiano ; 
Thou art too wild, too rude and bold of voice ; 
Parts that become thee happily enough 
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
But where thou art not known, why, there they show 
Something too liberal. Pray thee, take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit, lest through thy wild behavior 
I be misconstrued in the place I go to 
And lose my hopes. 

Gratiano. Signior Bassanio, hear me : 

If I do not put on a sober habit, 
Talk with respect and swear but now and then, 
Wear prayer books in my pocket, look demurely, 
Nay more, while grace is saying, hood mine eyes 



42 SHAKESPEARE. [act II. 

Thus with my hat, 1 and sigh and say " amen," 

Use all the observance of civility, 

Like one well studied in a sad ostent 2 

To please his grandam, never trust me more. 

Bassanio. Well, we shall see your bearing. 

Gratiano. Nay, but I bar to-night : you shall not gauge me 
By what we do to-night. 

Bassanio. No, that were pity : 

I would entreat you rather to put on 
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
That purpose merriment. But fare you well : 
I have some business. 

Gratiano. And I must to Lorenzo and the rest : 
But we will visit you at supper time. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. The Same. A Room in Shylock's House. 

Enter Jessica and Launcelot. 

Jessica. I am sorry thou wilt leave my father so : 
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil, 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness. 
But fare thee well, there is a ducat for thee : 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
Give him this letter ; do it secretly ; 
And so farewell : I would not have my father 
See me talk with thee. 

Laimcelot. Adieu! tears exhibit 3 my tongue. Most beautiful 
pagan, most sweet Jew! But, adieu: these foolish drops do 
something drown my manly spirit : adieu. 

1 " Hood mine eyes," etc. It was the custom formerly for all persons 
above the rank of attendants to keep on their hats at the dinner-table, re- 
moving them only while grace was said. 

2 " Sad ostent," i.e., show of serious behavior. 

3 Prohibit ; that is, silence. 



scene iv.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 43 

Jessica. Farewell, good Launcelot. [Exit Launcelot. 

Alack, what heinous sin is it in me 
To be asham'd to be my father's child ! 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners. Lorenzo, 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife, 
Become a Christian and thy loving wife. [Exit. 

Scene IV. The Same. A Street. 

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salarino, and Salanio. 

Lorenzo. Nay, we will slink away in supper time, 
Disguise us at my lodging and return, 
All in an hour. 

Gratiano. We have not made good preparation. 

Salarino. We have not spoke us yet of 1 torchbearers. 

Salanio. 'Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly order'd, 2 
And better in my mind not undertook. 

Lorenzo. 'Tis now but four o'clock : we have two hours 

To furnish us. 

Enter Launcelot with a letter. 

Friend Launcelot, what's the news ? 

Launcelot. An it shall please you to break up 3 this, it shall 
seem to signify. 

Lorenzo. I know the hand : in faith, 'tis a fair hand ; 
And whiter than the paper it writ on 
Is the fair hand that writ. 

Gratiano. Love news, in faith. 

Launcelot. By your leave, sir. 

Lorenzo. Whither goest thou ? 

Launcelot. Marry, sir, to bid my old master the Jew to sup 
to-night with my new master the Christian. 

1 " Spoke us yet of," i.e., bespoken; arranged for. 

2 " Quaintly order'd," i.e., neatly or gracefully arranged. 

3 " Break up," i.e., break open, referring to the letter. 



44 SHAKESPEARE. [act II. 

Lorenzo. Hold here, take this : tell gentle Jessica I will not 
fail her ; speak it privately. 

Go, gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. 

Will you prepare you for this masque to-night? 
I am provided of 2 a torchbearer. 

Salarino. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it straight. 

Salanio. And so will I. 

Lore?izo. Meet me and Gratiano 

At Gratiano's lodging some hour hence. 

Salarino. Tis good we do so. [Exeunt Sa/arino and Sa/anio. 

Gratiano. Was not that letter from fair Jessica? 

Lorenzo. I must needs tell thee all. She hath directed 
How I shall take her from her father's house, 
What gold and jewels she is furnish'd with, 
What page's suit she hath in readiness. 
If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven, 
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
And never dare misfortune cross her foot, 
Unless she do it under this excuse, 
That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
Come, go with me ; peruse this as thou goest : 
Fair Jessica shall be my torchbearer. [Exeunt 

Scene V. The Same. Before Shylock's House. 

Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 

Shylock. Well, thou shalt see, thy eyes shall be thy judge, 
The difference of old Shylock and Bassanio : — 
What, Jessica! — thou shalt not gormandize, 
As thou hast done with me : — What, Jessica ! — 
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ; — 
Why, Jessica, I say ! 

Latmcelot. Why, Jessica ! 

i With. 



scene v.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 45 

Shylock. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee call. 
Launcelot. Your worship was wont to tell me that I could do 
nothing without bidding. 

Enter Jessica. 

Jessica. Call you ? what is your will ? 

Shylock. I am bid forth to supper, Jessica: 
There are my keys. But wherefore should I go ? 
I am not bid for love ; they flatter me : 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian. Jessica, my girl, 
Look to my house. I am right loath to go : 
There is some ill a-brewing towards my rest, 
For I did dream of money bags to-night. 1 

Lawicelot. I beseech you, sir, go: my young master doth 
expect your reproach. 2 

Shylock. So do I his. 

Launcelot. And they have conspired together, I will not say 
you shall see a masque ; but if you do, then it was not for noth- 
ing that my nose fell a-bleeding on Black Monday 3 last at six 
o'clock i' the morning, falling out that year on Ash Wednesday 
was four year, in the afternoon. 

Shylock. What, are there masques ? Hear you me, Jessica : 
Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the drum 
And the vile squealing of the wry-neck'd fife, 

1 Last night. 

2 Launcelot means "approach," of course, but Shylock prefers to take 
him literally. 

3 "Black Monday." Furness (Variorem Shakespeare), quoting Peck 
(Memoirs, etc. ), who cites Stow, has this on the origin of the phrase used 
by Launcelot, and which was of course familiar in Shakespeare's time: 
" Black Monday is a movable day. It is Easter Monday, and was so called 
on this occasion: ' In the 34th [year of] Edwarde III. (1360) the 14th of 
April & the morrow after Easter-day K. Edwarde with his hoast lay before 
the cittie of Paris ; which day was full darke of mist & haile, & so bitter cold 
that men died on their horses backs with the cold ; wherefore unto this day 
it hath beehe called the Blacke Monday.' " 



46 SHAKESPEARE. [act II. 

Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces, 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements : 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. By Jacob's staff, 1 I swear, 
I have no mind of feasting forth to-night : 
But I will go. Go you before me, sirrah ; 
Say I will come. 

Launcelot. I will go before, sir. Mistress, look out at window, 

for all this ; 

There will come a Christian by, 

Will be worth a Jewess' eye. [Exit. 

Shylock. What says that fool of Hagar's offspring, ha ? 

Jessica. His words were " Farewell, mistress ; " nothing else. 

Shylock. The patch 2 is kind enough, but a huge feeder ; 
Snail-slow in profit, and he sleeps by day 
More than the wild cat : drones hive not with me ; 
Therefore I part with him, and part with him 
To one that I would have him help to waste 
His borrow'd purse. Well, Jessica, go in : 
Perhaps I will return immediately : 
Do as I bid you ; shut doors after you : 
Fast bind, fast find ; 
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit. 

Jessica. Farewell ; and if my fortune be not crost, 
I have a father, you a daughter, lost. [Exit. 

Scene VI. The Same. 

Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masqued. 

Gratiano. This is the penthouse 3 under which Lorenzo 
Desired us to make stand. 

1 See Gen. xxxii. 10, and Heb. xi. 21. 2 Fool. s Shed. 



scene vi.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 47 

Salarino. His hour is almost past. 

Gratiano. And it is marvel he outdwells his hour, 
For lovers ever run before the clock. 

Salarino. Oh, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
To seal love's bonds new-made, than they are wont 
To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 1 

Gratiano. That ever holds : who riseth from a feast 
With that keen appetite that he sits down ? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again 
His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
That he did pace them first ? All things that are, 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 

Salarino. Here comes Lorenzo : more of this hereafter. 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Lorenzo. Sweet friends, your patience for my long abode ; 
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wait : 
When you shall please to play the thieves for wives, 
I'll watch as long for you then. Approach ; 
Here dwells my father Jew. Ho! who's within ? 

Enter Jessica, above, in boy's clothes. 

Jessica. Who are you ? Tell me, for more certainty, 
Albeit I'll swear that I do know your tongue. 

Lore?izo. Lorenzo, and thy love. 

Jessica. Lorenzo, certain, and my love indeed, 
For whom love I so much? And now who knows 
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 

Lorenzo. Heaven and thy thoughts are witness that thou art. 

Jessica. Here, catch this casket ; it is worth the pains. 
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me, 
For I am much asham'd of my exchange : 

1 "Ten times faster," etc., i.e., the goddess of love, in her dove-drawn 
chariot, flies ten times faster, to assist in sealing new bonds of love, than to 
assist in keeping inviolate the bonds that have been formed. 



48 SHAKESPEARE. [act n. 

But love is blind and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit ; 
For if they could, Cupid x himself would blush 
To see me thus transformed to a boy. 

Lorenzo. Descend, for you must be my torchbearer. 

Jessica. What, must I hold a candle to my shames ? 
They in themselves, good sooth, 2 are too, too light. 
Why, 'tis an office of discovery, love ; 
And I should be obscur'd. 

Lorenzo. So are you, sweet, 

Even in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
But come at once ; 

For the close night doth play the runaway, 
And we are stay'd for at Bassanio's feast. 

Jessica. I will make fast the doors, and gild myself 
With some more ducats, and be with you straight. [Exit above. 

Gratiano. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no Jew. 

Lorenzo. Beshrew me but I love her heartily ; 
For she is wise, if I can judge of her, 
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true, 
And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself, 
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true, 
Shall she be placed in my constant soul. 

Enter Jessica, below. 

What, art thou come ? On, gentlemen ; away ! 
Our masquing mates by this time for us stay. 

[Exit with Jessica and Salarino. 

Enter Antonio. 
Antonio. Who's there ? 
Gratiano. Signior Antonio ! 
Antonio. Fie, fie, Gratiano ! where are all the rest ? 

1 Cupid, the god of love of classic mythology, is represented as a winged 
infant bearing a bow and quiver full of arrows. 

2 " Good sooth," i.e., in very truth. 



scene vii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 49 

'Tis nine o'clock : our friends all stay for you. 
No masque to-night : the wind is come about ; 
Bassanio presently will go aboard : 
I have sent twenty out to seek for you. 

Gratiano. I am glad on't : I desire no more delight 
Than to be under sail and gone to-night. [Exeunt. 



Scene VII. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter Portia, with the Prince of Morocco, and 

their trains. 

Portia. Go draw aside the curtains and discover 
The several caskets to this noble prince. 
Now make your choice. 

Morocco. The first, of gold, who 1 this inscription bears, 
" Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire;" 
The second, silver, which this promise carries, 
" Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves;" 
This third, dull lead, with warning all as blunt, 
" Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 
How shall I know if I do choose the right ? 

Portia. The one of them contains my picture, prince : 
If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 

Morocco. Some god direct my judgment ! Let me see ; 
I will survey the inscriptions back again. 
What says this leaden casket ? 

" Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 
Must give : for what ? for lead ? hazard for lead ? 
This casket threatens. Men that hazard all 
Do it in hope of fair advantages : 
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead. 

1 " Who " and " which " were to some extent used indifferently by writers 
of the time. 



50 SHAKESPEARE. [act ii. 

What says the silver with her virgin hue ? 

" Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves" 

As much as he deserves ! Pause there, Morocco, 

And weigh thy value with an even hand : 

If thou be'st rated by thy estimation, 

Thou dost deserve enough ; and yet enough 

May not extend so far as to the lady : 

And yet to be afeard of my deserving 

Were but a weak disabling of myself. 

As much as I deserve ! Why, that's the lady : 

I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes, 

In graces and in qualities of breeding ; 

But more than these, in love I do deserve. 

What if I stray 'd no further, but chose here? 

Let's see once more this saying grav'd in gold ; 

" Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire" 

Why, that's the lady ; all the world desires her ; 

From the four corners of the earth they come, 

To kiss this shrine, this mortal-breathing saint : 

The Hyrcanian l deserts and the vasty wilds 

Of wide Arabia are as throughfares 2 now 

For princes to come view fair Portia: 

The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 

Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 

To stop the foreign spirits, but they come, 

As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 

One of these three contains her heavenly picture. 

Is't like that lead contains her ? 'Twere damnation 

To think so base a thought : it were too gross 

To rib her cerecloth 3 in the obscure grave. 

Or shall I think in silver she's immur'd, 

1 Hyrcania was the name given to a district of uncertain extent south of 
the Caspian or Hyrcanian Sea. Shakespeare alludes to it in other plays as 
a. " land of tigers." 2 Thoroughfares. 

3 A prepared cloth used for wrapping a corpse. 



scene vii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 51 

Being ten times undervalued to tri'd gold ? 

sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem 

Was set in worse than gold. They have in England 

A coin that bears the figure of an angel x 

Stamp'd in gold, but that's insculp'd upon ; 

But here an angel in a golden bed 

Lies all within. Deliver me the key : 

Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! 

Portia. There, take it, prince ; and if my form lie there, 
Then I am yours. [He unlocks the golden casket. 

Morocco. O hell ! what have we here ? 

A carrion Death, within whose empty eye 
There is a written scroll! I'll read the writing. 

[Reads] < <A 11 that glisters is not gold; 

Often have you heard that told: 
Many a man his life hath sold 
But my outside to behold: 
Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Had you been as wise as bold, 
Young in limbs, in judgment old, 
Your answer had not been inscrolVd: 
Fare you well ; your suit is cold." 

Cold, indeed ; and labor lost : 
Then, farewell, heat, and welcome, frost ! 
Portia, adieu. I have too griev'd a heart 
To take a tedious leave : thus losers part. 

[Exit with his train. Flourish of cornets. 
Portia. A gentle riddance. Draw the curtains, go. 
Let all of his complexion choose me so. [Exeunt. 

l An old English coin first coined in the reign of Edward IV. (1465) bore 
the figure of St. Michael piercing the dragon. 



5 2 SHAKESPEARE, [act II. 

Scene VIII. Venice. A Street. 

Enter Salarino and Salanio. 

Salarino. Why, man, I saw Bassanio under sail: 
With him is Gratiano gone along ; 
And in their ship I am sure Lorenzo is not. 

Salanio. The villain Jew with outcries rais'd the duke, 
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship. 

Salarino. He came too late, the ship was under sail : 
But there the duke was given to understand 
That in a gondola * were seen together 
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : 
Besides, Antonio certified the duke 
They were not with Bassanio in his ship. 

Salanio. I never heard a passion so confus'd, 
So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
" My daughter ! O my ducats ! O my daughter 
Fled with a Christian ! O my Christian ducats 1 
Justice ! the law ! my ducats, and my daughter ! 
A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats, 
Of double ducats, stol'n from me by my daughter ! 
And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones, 
Stol'n by my daughter ! Justice ! find the girl ; 
She hath the stones upon her, and the ducats." 

Salarino. Why, all the boys in Venice follow him, 
Crying, his stones, his daughter, and his ducats. 

Salanio. Let good Antonio look he keep his day, 
Or he shall pay for this. 

Salarino. Marry, well remember'd. 

I reason'd 2 with a Frenchman yesterday, 
Who told me, in the narrow seas that part 
The French and English, there miscarried 

1 The Venetian pleasure boat. 2 Talked. 



scene ix.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 53 

A vessel of our country richly fraught : 1 
I thought upon Antonio when he told me ; 
And wish'd in silence that it were not his. 

Salanio. You were best to tell Antonio what you hear ; 
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 

Salarino. A kinder gentleman treads not the earth. 
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : 
Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
Of his return : he answer'd, " Do not so ; 
Slubber 2 not business for my sake, Bassanio, 
But stay the very riping of the time ; 
And for the Jew's bond which he hath of me, 
Let it not enter in your mind of love : 
Be merry, and employ your chiefest thoughts 
To courtship and such fair ostents 3 of love 
As shall conveniently become you there : " 
And even there, his eye being big with tears, 
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
And with affection wondrous sensible 4 
He wrung Bassanio's hand ; and so they parted. 

Salanio. I think he only loves the world for him. 
I pray thee, let us go and find him out 
And quicken his embraced heaviness 
With some delight or other. 

Salarino. Do we so* [Exeunt. 



Scene IX. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 

Enter Nerissa with a Servitor. 

Nerissa. Quick, quick, I pray thee ; draw the curtain straight : 5 
The Prince of Arragon hath ta'en his oath, 
And comes to his election 6 presently. 

1 Laden. 2 To do carelessly. 3 Manifestations. 4 Sensitive. 
5 At once. 6 " To his election," i.e., to make his choice. 



54 SHAKESPEARE. [act ii. 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the Prince of Arragon, Portia, 

and their trams. 

Portia. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble prince : 
If you choose that wherein I am contain'd, 
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemniz'd : 
But if you fail, without more speech, my lord, 
You must be gone from hence immediately. 

Arragon. I am enjoin'd by oath to observe three things: 
First, never to unfold to any one 
Which casket 'twas I chose ; next, if I fail 
Of the right casket, never in my life 
To woo a maid in way of marriage ; 
Lastly, 

If I do fail in fortune of my choice, 
Immediately to leave you and be gone. 

Portia. To these injunctions every one doth swear 
That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 

Arragon. And so have I address'd me. 1 Fortune now 
To my heart's hope ! Gold, silver, and base lead. 
" Who chooseth me must give and hazard all he hath." 
You shall look fairer, ere I give or hazard. 
What says the golden chest ? ha ! let me see : 
" Who chooseth me shall gain what many men desire." 
What many men desire! that "many " may be meant 
By 2 the fool multitude, that choose by show, 
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach ; 
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the martlet, 3 
Builds in the weather on the outward wall, 
Even in the force and road of casualty. 
I will not choose what many men desire, 
Because I will not jump with 4 common spirits 

1 "Address'd me," i.e., made myself ready. 

2 For. 3 The house martin. 

4 " Jump with," i.e., go with. " Jump " is often used by Shakespeare in 
this sense of " agreement." 



scene ix.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 55 

And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 

Why, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house ; 

Tell me once more what title thou dost bear : 

" Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves:" 

And well said too ; for who shall go about 

To cozen fortune and be honorable 

Without the stamp of merit ? Let none presume 

To wear an undeserved dignity. 

Oh that estates, 1 degrees, and offices 

Were not deriv'd corruptly, and that clear honor 

Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer ! 

How many then should cover that stand bare ! 

How many be commanded that command ! 

How much low peasantry would then be glean'd 

From the true seed of honor ! and how much honor 

Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times 

To be new-varnish'd ! Well, but to my choice : 

" Who chooseth me shall get as much as he deserves." 

I will assume desert. Give me a key for this, 

And instantly unlock my fortunes here. [He opens the silver casket. 

Portia. Too long a pause for that which you find there. 

Arrago?i. What's here ? The portrait of a blinking idiot, 
Presenting me a schedule! I will read it. 
How much unlike art thou to Portia ! 
How much unlike my hopes and my deservings ! 
" Who chooseth me shall have as much as he deserves." 
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
Is that my prize ? are my deserts no better ? 

Portia. To offend, and judge, are distinct offices 
And of opposed natures. 

Arragon. What is here ? 

[Peads] " The fire seven times tried this : 

Seven times tried that judgment is, 
That did never choose amiss. 

1 Dignities, not property. 



56 SHAKESPEARE. [act ii. 

Some there be that shadows kiss; 
Such have but a shadow's bliss : 
There befools alive, I wis, 1 
Silvered o'er ; and so was this. 
Take what wife you will to wed, 
I will ever be your head: 
So be gone: you are sped." 

Still more fool I shall appear 

By the time I linger here : 

With one fool's head I came to woo, 

But I go away with two. 

Sweet, adieu. I'll keep my oath, 

Patiently to bear my wroth. 2 

\Exeunt Arragon and train. 
Portia. Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. 
Oh, these deliberate fools ! when they do choose, 
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 

Nerissa. The ancient saying is no heresy, 
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny. 
Portia. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 

Enter a Servant. 

Servant. Where is my lady ? 

Portia. Here: what would my lord? 

Servant. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
A young Venetian, one that comes before 
To signify the approaching of his lord ; 
From whom he bringeth sensible regreets, 3 
To wit, besides commends and courteous breath, 
Gifts of rich value. Yet I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love : 

1 Am sure. 

2 " Patiently to bear," etc., i.e., patiently to bear the disappointment that 
has caused my anger. 

3 " Sensible regreets," i.e., substantial greetings. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 57 

A day in April never came so sweet, 

To show how costly summer was at hand, 

As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

Portia. No more, I pray thee : I am half afeard 
Thou wilt say anon he is some kin to thee, 
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him. 
Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long to see 
Quick Cupid's post 1 that comes so mannerly. 

Nerissa, Bassanio, lord Love, if thy will it be! \Exeunt. 



« 



ACT III. 

Scene I. Ve?iice. A Street. 

Enter Salanio and Salarino. 

Salanio. Now, what news on the Rialto ? 

Salarino. Why, yet it lives there uncheck'd that Antonio hath 
a ship of rich lading wreck'd on the narrow seas ; the Good- 
wins, 2 I think they call the place ; a very dangerous flat and 
fatal, where the carcasses of many a tall ship lie buried, as they 
say, if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word. 

Salanio. I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever 
knapp'd 3 ginger or made her neighbors believe she wept for the 
death of a third husband. But it is true, without any slips of 
prolixity or crossing the plain highway of talk, that the good 
Antonio, the honest Antonio, — Oh that I had a title good 
enough to keep his name company ! — 

Salarino. Come, the full stop. 

Salanio. Ha ! what say'st thou? Why, the end is, he hath 
lost a ship. 

Salarino. I would it might prove the end of his losses. 

1 Postman. 

2 The Goodwin Sands, not far from the mouth of the Thames. They were 
at one time an island, the property of Earl Goodwin, which was submerged 
about the year I ioo. 3 Snapped, or broke off. 



5 8 SHAKESPEARE. [act hi. 

Salanio. Let me say "amen " betimes, lest the devil cross my 
prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew. 

Enter Shylock. 

How now, Shylock ! what news among the merchants ? 

Shylock. You knew, none so well, none so well as you, of my 
daughter's flight. 

Salarino. That's certain : I, for my part, knew the tailor that 
made the wings she flew withal. 

Salanio. And Shylock, for his own part, knew the bird was 
fledg'd ; and then it is the complexion 1 of them all to leave the 
dam. 

Shylock. She is damn'd for it. 

Salarino. That's certain if the devil may be her judge. 

Shylock. My own flesh and blood to rebel ! 

Salanio. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it at these years ? 

Shylock. I say, my daughter is my flesh and blood. 

Salarino. There is more difference between thy flesh and hers 
than between jet and ivory: more between your bloods than 
there is between red wine and rhenish. But tell us, do you hear 
whether Antonio have had any loss at sea or no ? 

Shylock. There I have another bad match: a bankrupt, a 
prodigal, who dare scarce show his head on the Rialto ; a beg- 
gar, that was us'd to come so smug 2 upon the mart ; let him look 
to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; let him look to 
his bond : he was wont to lend money for a Christian courtesy ; 
let him look to his bond. 

Salarino. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his 
flesh : what's that good for ? 

Shylock. To bait fish withal : if it will feed nothing else, it 
will feed my revenge. He hath disgrac'd me, and hinder'd me 
half a million ; laugh'd at my losses, mock'd at my gains, scorn'd 
my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my friends, heated mine 

1 Disposition. 

2 Studiously neat and trim, with a self-satisfied air. 



scene i.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 59 

enemies ; and what's his reason ? I am a Jew. Hath not a 
Jew eyes ? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, af- 
fections, passions ? fed with the same food, hurt with the same 
weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, 
warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Chris- 
tian is? If you prick us, do we not bleed ? if you tickle us, do 
we not laugh ? if you poison us, do we not die ? and if you 
wrong us, shall we not revenge ? If we are like you in the rest, 
we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what 
is his humility ? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what 
should his sufferance be by Christian example ? Why, revenge. 
The villany you teach me, I will execute, and it shall go hard 
but I will better the instruction. 

Enter a Servant. 

Servant. Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at his house and 
desires to speak with you both. 

Salarino. We have been up and down to seek him. 

Enter Tubal. 

Salanio. Here comes another of the tribe : a third cannot be 
match'd, unless the devil himself turn Jew. 

\Exeunt Salanio, Salarino, and Servant. 

Shylock. How now, Tubal ! what news from Genoa ? hast 
thou found my daughter ? 

Tubal. I often came where I did hear of her, but cannot find 
her. 

Shylock. Why, there, there, there, there ! a diamond gone, 
cost me two thousand ducats in Frankfort ! The curse never 
fell upon our nation till now; I never felt it till now: two 
thousand ducats in that; and other precious, precious jewels. 
I would my daughter were dead at my foot, and the jewels in 
her ear! would she were hears'd at my foot, and the ducats in 
her coffin ! No news of them ? Why, so : and I know not 
what's spent in the search : why, thou loss upon loss ! the thief 



60 SHAKESPEARE. [act hi. 

gone with so much, and so much to find the thief ; and no satis- 
faction, no revenge : nor no ill luck stirring but what lights on 
my shoulders ; no sighs but of my breathing ; no tears but of 
my shedding. 

Tubal. Yes, other men have ill luck too : Antonio, as I heard 
in Genoa, — 

Shy lock. What, what, what? ill luck, ill luck? 

Tubal. Hath an argosy cast away, coming from Tripolis. 

Shylock. I thank God, I thank God. Is't true, is't true ? 

Tubal. I spoke with some of the sailors that escaped the 
wreck. 

Shylock. I thank thee, good Tubal : good news, good news ! 
ha, ha ! where ? in Genoa ? 

Tubal. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as I heard, in one 
night fourscore ducats. 

Shylock. Thou stick'st a dagger in me : I shall never see my 
gold again : fourscore ducats at a sitting ! fourscore ducats ! 

Tubal. There came divers of Antonio's creditors in my com- 
pany to Venice, that swear he cannot choose but break. 

Shylock. I am very glad of it : I'll plague him ; I'll torture 
him : I am glad of it. 

Tubal. One of them showed me a ring that he had of your 
daughter for a monkey. 

Shylock. Out upon her ! Thou torturest me, Tubal : it was 
my turquoise : I had it of Leah when I was a bachelor : I would 
not have given it for a wilderness of monkeys. 

Tubal. But Antonio is certainly undone. 

Shylock. Nay, that's true, that's very true. Go, Tubal, fee 

me an officer ; bespeak him a fortnight before. I will have the 

heart of him, if he forfeit ; for, were he out of Venice, I can 

make what merchandise 1 I will. Go, go, Tubal, and meet me at 

our synagogue ; go, good Tubal ; at our synagogue, Tubal. 

[Exeunt. 
1 Profit by merchandising. 



scene II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 61 

Scene II. Belmont. A Room in Portia's House. 

Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nerissa, and Attendants. 

Portia. I pray you, tarry : pause a day or two 
Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
I lose your company : therefore forbear awhile. 
There's something tells me, but it is not love, 
I would not lose you ; and you know yourself, 
Hate counsels not in such a quality. 
But lest you should not understand me well, — 
And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought, — 
I would detain you here some month or two 
Before you venture for me. I could teach you 
How to choose right, but I am then forsworn ; 
So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin, 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes, 
They have o'erlook'd 1 me and divided me ; 
One half of me is yours, the other half yours, 
Mine own, I would say ; but if mine, then yours, 
And so all yours. Oh, these naughty times 
Put bars between the owners and their rights ! 
And so, though yours, not yours. Prove it so, 
Let fortune go to hell for it, not I. 
I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize the time, 2 
To eke it, and to draw it out in length, 
To stay you from election. 

Bassanio. Let me choose ; 

For as I am, I live upon the rack. 

1 Bewitched, in allusion to the superstitious notion of the influence of 
malignant and envious eyes. 

2 " To peize the time," i.e., to weight the time, that it may pass 
slowly. " Peize " is from the French word signifying " to weigh " or " to 
balance." 



62 SHAKESPEARE. [act hi. 

Portia. Upon the rack, Bassanio ! then confess 
What treason there is mingled with your love. 

Bassanio. None but that ugly treason of mistrust, 
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love : 
There may as well be amity and life 
'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love. 

Portia. Ay, but I fear you speak upon the rack, 
Where men enforced do speak anything. 

Bassanio. Promise me life, and I'll confess the truth. 

Portia. Well then, confess and live. 

Bassanio. " Confess " and " love " 

Had been the very sum of my confession : 
O happy torment, when my torturer 
Doth teach me answers for deliverance ! 
But let me to my fortune and the caskets. 

Portia. Away, then ! I am lock'd in one of them : 
If you do love me, you will find me out. 
Nerissa and the rest, stand all aloof. 
Let music sound while he doth make his choice ; 
Then, if he lose, he makes a swan-like 1 end, 
Fading in music : that the comparison 
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream 
And watery deathbed for him. He may win ; 
And what is music then ? Then music is 
Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 
To a new-crowned monarch : such it is 
As are those dulcet sounds in break of day 
That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear 
And summon him to marriage. Now he goes, 
With no less presence, but with much more love, 
Than young Alcides, 2 when he did redeem 

1 It is an old belief that the swan, at other times songless, " chants a dole- 
ful hymn to his own death." 

2 It fell to the lot of Hesione, daughter of Laomedon, King of Troy, to 
be exposed to the sea monster to whom the Trojans from time to time offered 



scene ii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 63 

The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 

To the sea monster : I stand for sacrifice ; 

The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives, 1 

With bleared visages, come forth to view 

The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules ! 

Live thou, I live : with much, much more dismay 

I view the fight than thou that mak'st the fray. 

Music, whilst Bassanio comments on the caskets to himself. 

Song. 

Tell me where is fancy bred, 

Or in the heart or in the head? 

How begot, how nourished ? 
Reply, reply. 

It is engendered in the eyes, 

With gazing fed ; and fancy dies 

In the cradle where it lies. 

Let us all ring fancy's knell: 
I 7/ begin it, — Ding, dong, bell. 

All. Ding, dong, bell. 

Bassanio. So may the outward shows be least themselves : 
The world is still deceiv'd with ornament. 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt 
But, being season'd with a gracious voice, 
Obscures the show of evil ? In religion, 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it and approve it with a text, 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 

a marriageable virgin to appease the wrath of Apollo and Neptune, whom 
Laomedon had offended; but Alcides (Hercules, see Note 3, p. 35), who, 
returning from his expedition against the Amazons, had stopped at Troy, 
promised to rescue the princess provided he received as a reward six beautiful 
horses. The king consented, and Alcides attacked and slew the monster just 
as he was going to devour the maiden. 

1 " Dardanian wives," i.e., Trojan matrons. It is fabled that Dardanus, 
son of Jupiter, founded the Kingdom of Troy : hence this appellation of 
" Dardanian " to its inhabitants. 



64 SHAKESPEARE. [act hi. 

There is no vice so simple but assumes 

Some mark of virtue on his 1 outward parts : 

How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 

As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 

The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars, 

Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk ; 

And these assume but valor's excrement 2 

To render them redoubted ! Look on beauty, 

And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight ; 

Which therein works a miracle in nature, 

Making them lightest that wear most of it : 

So are those crisped snaky golden locks 

Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 

Upon supposed fairness, often known 

To be the dowry of a second head, 

The skull that bred them in the sepulcher. 

Thus ornament is but the guiled 3 shore 

To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 

Veiling an Indian beauty ; in a word, 

The seeming truth which cunning times put on 

To entrap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy gold, 

Hard food for Midas, 4 I will none of thee ; 

Nor none of thee, thou pale and common drudge 

'Tween man and man : but thou, thou meager lead, 

1 In Shakespeare's time " his " was used as the possessive of "it "as 
well as of " he." 

2 " Valor's excrement," i.e., the outward sign of valor, referring here to 
the beard. 

3 Treacherous. 

4 Midas was a King of Phrygia. According to the mythologists, his hos- 
pitality to Silenus, the preceptor of Bacchus, was liberally rewarded by that 
god ; and he was permitted to demand any recompense he desired. The King 
asked that whatever he touched might be turned into gold. His request was 
granted ; but, when the very meats he attempted to eat became gold in his 
mouth, he begged Bacchus to revoke a gift that must prove fatal to the 
receiver. 



scene ii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 65 

Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught, 
Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence ; 
And here choose I : joy be the consequence ! 

Portia. [Aside] How all the other passions fleet to air, 
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embrac'd despair, 
And shudd'ring fear, and green-eyed jealousy ! 

love, 

Be moderate ; allay thy ecstasy ; 

In measure rain thy joy ; scant this excess. 

1 feel too much thy blessing : make it less, 
For fear I surfeit. 

Bassa?iio. What find I here ? 

[ Opening the leaden casket. 
Fair Portia's counterfeit ! What demigod 
Hath come so near creation ? Move these eyes ? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine, 
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips, 
Parted with sugar breath : so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs 
The painter plays the spider and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs : but her eyes, — 
How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks it should have power to steal both his 
And leave itself unfurnish'd. Yet look, how far 
The substance of my praise doth wrong this shadow 
In underprizing it, so far this shadow 
Doth limp behind the substance. Here's the scroll, 
The continent 1 and summary of my fortune. 

\Reads\ " You that choose not by the view, 

Chance as fair and choose as true! 
Since this fortune falls to you , 
Be content and seek no new. 

1 " Continent " means here " that which contains." 



66 SHAKESPEARE. [act III. 

If you be well pleas 'd with this 
And hold your fortune for your bliss. 
Turn you where your lady is 
And claim her with a loving kiss." 

A gentle scroll. Fair lady, by your leave ; 
I come by note, to give and to receive. 
Like one of two contending in a prize, 
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes, 
Hearing applause and universal shout, 
Giddy in spirit, still gazing in a doubt 
Whether those peals of praise be his or no ; 
So, thrice-fair lady, stand I, even so ; 
As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
Until connrm'd, sign'd, ratified by you. 

Portia. You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand, 
Such as I am : though for myself alone 
I would not be ambitious in my wish, 
To wish myself much better ; yet, for you 
I would be trebled twenty times myself ; 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
More rich ; 

That only to stand high in your account, 
I might in virtues, beauties, livings, friends, 
Exceed account ; but the full sum of me 
Is sum of nothing, which, to term in gross, 
Is an unlesson'd girl, unschool'd, unpractic'd; 
Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
But she may learn ; happier then in this, 
She is not bred so dull but she can learn; 
Happiest of all in that her gentle spirit 
Commits itself to yours to be directed, 
As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
Myself and what is mine to you and yours 
Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 



scene ii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 67 

Queen o'er myself ; and even now, but now, 
This house, these servants, and this same myself 
Are yours, my lord : I give them with this ring ; 
Which when you part from, lose, or give away, 
Let it presage the ruin of your love 
And be my vantage to exclaim on you. 

Bassanio. Madam, you have bereft me of all words, 
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins ; 
And there is such confusion in my powers, 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
Among the buzzing pleased multitude ; 
Where every something, being blent together, 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
Express'd and not express'd. But when this ring 
Parts from this finger, then parts life from hence : 
Oh, then be bold to say Bassanio's dead ! 

Nerissa. My lord and lady, it is now our time, 
That have stood by and seen our wishes prosper, 
To cry, good joy : good joy, my lord and lady ! 

Gratiano. My lord Bassanio and my gentle lady, 
I wish you all the joy that you can wish ; 
For I am sure you can wish none from me : 
And when your honors mean to solemnize 
The bargain of your faith, I do beseech you, 
Even at that time I may be married too. 

Bassanio. With all my heart, so thou canst get a wife. 

Gratiano. I thank your lordship, you have got me one. 
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
You saw the mistress, I beheld the maid ; 
You lov'd, I lov'd ; for intermission 1 
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
Your fortune stood upon the casket there, 



Delay. 



68 SHAKESPEARE. [act in. 

And so did mine too, as the matter falls ; 

For wooing here until I sweat again, 

And swearing till my very roof was dry 

With oaths of love, at last, if promise last, 

I got a promise of this fair one here 

To have her love, provided that your fortune 

Achiev'd her mistress. 

Portia. Is this true, Nerissa ? 

Nerissa. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas'd withal. 

Bassanio. And do you, Gratiano, mean good faith ? 

Gratiano. Yes, faith, my lord. 

Bassanio. Our feast shall be much honor'd in your marriage. 

Gratiano. But who comes here ? Lorenzo and his infidel ? 
What, and my old Venetian friend Salanio ? 

Enter Lorenzo, Jessica, and Salanio, a messenger from Venice. 

Bassanio. Lorenzo and Salanio, welcome hither ; 
If that the youth of my new interest here 
Have power to bid you welcome. By your leave, 
I bid my very 1 friends and countrymen, 
Sweet Portia, welcome. 

Portia. So do I, my lord : 

They are entirely welcome. 

Lorenzo. I thank your honor. For my part, my lord, 
My purpose was not to have seen you here ; 
But meeting with Salanio by the way, 
He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 
To come with him along. 

Salanio. I did, my lord ; 

And I have reason for it. Signior Antonio 
Commends him to you. [Gives Bassanio a letter. 

Bassanio. Ere I ope his letter, 

I pray you, tell me how my good friend doth. 

i True. 



scene II.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 69 

Sa/anio. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in mind ; 
Nor well, unless in mind : his letter there 
Will show you his estate. 1 

Gratiano. Nerissa, cheer yon stranger ; bid her welcome. 
Your hand, Salanio ; what's the news from Venice ? 
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio ? 
I know he will be glad of our success ; 
We are the Jasons, 2 we have won the fleece. 

Salanio. I would you had won the fleece that he hath lost. 

Portia. There are some shrewd 3 contents in yon same paper, 
That steals the color from Bassanio's cheek : 
Some dear friend dead ; else nothing in the world 
Could turn so much the constitution 
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse 1 
With leave, Bassanio ; I am half yourself, 
And I must freely have the half of anything 
That this same paper brings you. 

Bassanio. O sweet Portia, 

Here are a few of the unpleasant'st words 
That ever blotted paper ! Gentle lady, 
When I did first impart my love to you, 
I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
Ran in my veins, I was a gentleman ; 
And then I told you true : and yet, dear lady, 
Rating myself at nothing, you shall see 
How much I was a braggart. When I told you 
My state was nothing, I should then have told you 
That I was worse than nothing ; for, indeed, 
I have engag'd myself to a dear friend, 
Engag'd my friend to his mere 4 enemy, 
To feed my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 
The paper as the body of my friend, 
And every word in it a gaping wound, 

l Condition. 2 See Note 3, p. 23. 3 Bitter. 4 Thorough. 



7° SHAKESPEARE. [act hi. 

Issuing lifeblood. But is it true, Salanio ? 

Have all his ventures fail'd ? What, not one hit ? 

From Tripoli's, from Mexico and England, 

From Lisbon, Barbary and India ? 

And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch 

Of merchant-marring rocks ? 

Salanio. Not one, my lord. 

Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
The present money to discharge the Jew, 
He would not take it. Never did I know 
A creature, that did bear the shape of man, 
So keen and greedy to confound a man : 
He plies the duke at morning and at night, 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
If they deny him justice : twenty merchants, 
The duke himself, and the magnincoes l 
Of greatest port, 2 have all persuaded 3 with him ; 
But none can drive him from the envious 4 plea 
Of forfeiture, of justice and his bond. 

Jessica. When I was with him I have heard him swear 
To Tubal and to Chus, his countrymen, 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh 
Than twenty times the value of the sum 
That he did owe him : and I know, my lord, 
If law, authority, and power deny not, 
It will go hard with poor Antonio. 

Portia. Is it your dear friend that is thus in trouble ? 

Bassanio. The dearest friend to me, the kindest man, 
The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit 
In doing courtesies, and one in whom 
The ancient Roman honor more appears 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 



1 The chief men of Venice. 2 " Greatest port," i.e., highest dignity. 

3 Argued. * Malicious. 



scene ii.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 71 

Portia. What sum owes he the Jew ? 

Bassanio. For me three thousand ducats. 

Portia. What, no more? 

Pay him six thousand, and deface the bond ; 
Double six thousand, and then treble that, 
Before a friend of this description 
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
First go with me to church and call me wife, 
And then away to Venice to your friend ; 
For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
With an unquiet soul. You shall have gold 
To pay the petty debt twenty times over : 
When it is paid, bring your true friend along. 
My maid Nerissa and myself meantime 
Will live as maids and widows. Come, away! 
For you shall hence upon your wedding day : 
Bid your friends welcome, show a merry cheer : 1 
Since you are dear bought, I will love you dear. 
But let me hear the letter of your friend. 

Bassanio. [Beads] "Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all mis- 
carried, ?ny creditors grow cruel, my estate is very low, my bond to 
the Jew is forfeit ; and since in paying it, it is impossible I should 
live, all debts are clear 'd between you and I, 2 iff might but see you at 
my death. Notwithstanding, use your pleasure : if your love do not 
persuade you to come, let not my letter." 

Portia. O love, dispatch all business, and be gone ! 

Bassanio. Since I have your good leave to go away, 
I will make haste : but, till I come again, 

No bed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, 

No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. [Exeunt. 

1 Countenance. 

2 " Between you and I," a grammatical irregularity often found in the 
literature of the Elizabethan age. 



72 SHAKESPEARE. [act hi. 

Scene III. Venice. A Street. 

Enter Shylock, Salarino, Antonio, and Gaoler. 

Shy lock. Gaoler, look to him : tell not me of mercy ; 
This is the fool that lent out money gratis : 
Gaoler, look to him. 

Antonio. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 

Shylock. I'll have my bond ; speak not against my bond : 
I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond. 
Thou call'dst me dog before thou hadst a cause ; 
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs : 
The duke shall grant me justice. I do wonder, 
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond 1 
To come abroad with him at his request. 

Antonio. I pray thee, hear me speak. 

Shylock. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear thee speak : 
I'll have my bond ; and therefore speak no more. 
I'll not be made a soft and dull-eyed fool, 
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To Christian intercessors. Follow not ; 
I'll have no speaking : I will have my bond. [Exit. 

Salarino. It is the most impenetrable cur 
That ever kept 2 with men. 

Antonio. Let him alone : 

I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
He seeks my life ; his reason well I know : 
I oft deliver'd from his forfeitures 
Many that have at times made moan to me ; 
Therefore he hates me. 

Salarino. I am sure the duke 

Will never grant this forfeiture to hold. 

Antonio. The duke cannot deny the course of law : 
For the commodity that strangers have 

1 Foolish. 2 Lived. 



scene iv.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 73 

With us in Venice, if it be denied, 

Will much impeach the justice of his state ; 

Since that the trade and profit of the city 

Consisteth of all nations. 1 Therefore, go : 

These griefs and losses have so bated me, 

That I shall hardly spare a pound of flesh 

To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 

Well, gaoler, on. Pray God, Bassanio come 

To see me pay his debt, and then I care not ! \Exeunt 

Scene IV. Belmont A Room in Portia's House. 

Enter Portia, Nerissa, Lorenzo, Jessica, and Balthasar. 

Lorenzo. Madam, although I speak it in your presence, 
You have a noble and a true conceit 2 
Of godlike amity ; which appears most strongly 
In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
But if you knew to whom you show this honor, 
How true a gentleman you send relief, 
How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
I know you would be prouder of the work 
Than customary bounty can enforce you. 

Portia. I never did repent for doing good, 
Nor shall not now : for in companions 
That do converse and waste 3 the time together, 
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love, 
There must be needs a like proportion 
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit ; 
Which makes me think that this Antonio, 
Being the bosom lover of my lord, 

1 " For the commodity," etc. " To refuse to strangers their privileges 
will be an imputation on the state's justice, since it is to the strangers that 
the city owes its trade." Shylock was not a citizen of Venice. 

2 Conception. 

3 " Waste " means here simply " spend," not " spend uselessly." 



74 SHAKESPEARE. [act !"• 

Must needs be like my lord. If it be so, 

How little is the cost I have bestow'd 

In purchasing the semblance of my soul 

From out the state of hellish misery ! 

This comes too near the praising of myself ; 

Therefore no more of it : hear other things. 

Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 

The husbandry and manage of my house 

Until my lord's return : for mine own part, 

I have toward heaven breath'd a secret vow 

To live in prayer and contemplation, 

Only attended by Nerissa here, 

Until her husband and my lord's return : 

There is a monastery two miles off ; 

And there will we abide. I do desire you 

Not to deny this imposition ; 

The which my love and some necessity 

Now lays upon you. 

Lorenzo. Madam, with all my heart ; 

I shall obey you in all fair commands. 

Portia. My people do already know my mind, 
And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
In place of Lord Bassanio and myself. 
And so farewell, till we shall meet again. 

Lorenzo. Fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you ! 

Jessica. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 

Portia. I thank you for your wish, and am well pleas' d 
To wish it back on you : fare you well, Jessica. 

\Exeunt Jessica and Lorenzo. 
Now, Balthasar, 

As I have ever found thee honest-true, 
So let me find thee still. Take this same letter, 
And use thou all the endeavor of a man 
In speed to Padua : see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand, Doctor Bellario ; 



scene iv.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 75 

And, look, what notes and garments he doth give thee, 

Bring them, I pray thee, with imagin'd speed 

Unto the tranect, 1 to the common ferry 

Which trades to Venice. Waste no time in words, 

But get thee gone : I shall be there before thee. 

Balthasar. Madam, I go with all convenient speed. [Exit. 

Portia. Come on, Nerissa ; I have work in hand 
That you yet know not of : we'll see our husbands 
Before they think of us. 

Nerissa. Shall they see us ? 

Portia. They shall, Nerissa ; but in such a habit, 
That they shall think we are accomplished 
With that we lack. I'll hold thee any wager, 
When we are both accout'red like young men, 
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, 
And wear my dagger with the braver grace, 
And speak between the change of man and boy 
With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps 
Into a manly stride, and speak of frays 
Like a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint 2 lies, 
How honorable ladies sought my love, 
Which I denying, they fell sick and died ; 
I could not do withal ; then I'll repent, 
And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them ; 
And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, 
That men shall swear I have discontinued school 
Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind 
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
Which I will practice. 
But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device 
When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
At the park gate ; and therefore haste away, 
For we must measure twenty miles to-day. [Exeunt. 

1 There is no other instance of the use of this word. It may be a misprint 
for " traject." The ferries in Venice were called traghetti. 2 Fanciful. 



76 SHAKESPEARE. [act hi. 

Scene V. The Same. A Garden. 

Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 

Launcelot. Yes, truly ; for, look you, the sins of the father are 
to be laid upon the children : therefore, I promise ye, I fear you. 1 
1 was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of 
the matter : therefore be of good cheer, for truly I think you are 
damn'd. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good ; 
and that is but a kind of base hope neither. 

Jessica. And what hope is that, I pray thee? 

Launcelot. Marry, you may partly hope that you are not the 
Jew's daughter. 

Jessica. That were a kind of base hope, indeed : so the sins 
of my mother should be visited upon me. 

Launcelot. Truly then I fear you are damned both by father 
and mother : thus when I shun Scylla, 2 your father, I fall into 
Charybdis, 2 your mother: well, you are gone both ways. 

Jessica. I shall be sav'd by my husband ; he hath made me a 
Christian. 

Launcelot. Truly, the more to blame he : we were Christians 

enow 3 before ; e'en as many as could well live, one by another. 

This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs : if we grow 

all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher 4 on the 

coals for money. 

Enter Lorenzo. 

Jessica. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what you say : here 
he comes. 

Lorenzo. I shall grow jealous of you shortly, Launcelot. 

1 " I fear you," i.e., I fear for you. 

2 Scylla and Charybdis were mythical monsters on either side the narrow 
strait between Italy and Sicily. Mariners, in their solicitude to keep clear of 
the one, were imperiled by the other : hence " in avoiding Scylla to run upon 
Charybdis " became proverbial as expressing the condition of those who, 
anxious to shun one evil, meet with a greater. 

3 Enough. 4 A rasher is a slice of bacon broiled over a quick fire. 



scene v.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 77 

Jessica. Nay, you need not fear us, Lorenzo : Launcelot and 
I are out. He tells me flatly, there is no mercy for me in heaven, 
because I am a Jew's daughter : and he says, you are no good 
member of the commonwealth, for in converting Jews to Chris- 
tians, you raise the price of pork. 

Lorenzo. Go in, sirrah ; bid them prepare for dinner. 

Launcelot. That is done, sir ; they have all stomachs. 

Lorenzo. Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper are you! then bid 
them prepare dinner. 

Launcelot. That is done too, sir ; only " cover " is the word. 

Lorenzo. Will you cover then, sir ? 

Launcelot. Not so, sir, neither ; I know my duty. 

Lorenzo. Yet more quarreling with occasion ! 1 Wilt thou 
show the whole wealth of thy wit in an instant ? I pray thee, 
understand a plain man in his plain meaning : go to thy fellows ; 
bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come 
in to dinner. 

Launcelot. For the table, sir, it shall be serv'd in ; for the 
meat, sir, it shall be covered ; for your coming in to dinner, sir, 
why, let it be as humors and conceits shall govern. [Exit. 

Lorenzo. O dear discretion, how his words are suited ! 
The fool hath planted in his memory 
An army of good words ; and I do know 
A many fools, that stand in better place, 
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. How cheer'st thou, Jessica ? 
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 
How dost thou like the Lord Bassanio's wife ? 

Jessica. Past all expressing. It is very meet 
The Lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
For, having such a blessing in his lady, 
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth; 
And if on earth he do not mean it, 2 then 

1 " Quarreling with occasion," i.e., ill-timed punning and quibbling. 

2 " Mean it," i.e., mean to live uprightly. 



7§ SHAKESPEARE. [act iv. 

In reason he should never come to heaven. 
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly match 
And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
And Portia one, there must be something else 
Pawn'd with the other, for the poor rude world 
Hath not her fellow. 

Lorenzo. Even such a husband 

Hast thou of me as she is for a wife. 

Jessica. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 

Loreiizo. I will anon : first, let us go to dinner. 

Jessica. Nay, let me praise you while I have a stomach. 

Lore?izo. No, pray thee, let it serve for table-talk ; 
Then, howsoe'er thou speak'st, 'mong other things 
I shall digest it. 

Jessica, Well, I'll set you forth. [Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 

Scene I. Venice. A Court of Justice. 

Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes, Antonio, Bassanio, Gratiano, 
Salerio, and others. 

Duke. What, is Antonio here ? 

Antonio. Ready, so please your grace. 

Duke. I am sorry for thee : thou art come to answer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
Uncapable x of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Antonio. I have heard 

Your grace hath ta'en great pains to qualify 
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdurate 
And that no lawful means can carry me 
Out of his envy's reach, I do oppose 

1 Incapable. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 79 

My patience to his fury, and am arm'd 
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the court. 

Salerio. He is ready at the door : he comes, my lord. 

Enter Shylock. 

Duke. Make room, and let him stand before our face. 
Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, 
That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
To the last hour of act ; and then 'tis thought 
Thou'lt show thy mercy and remorse more strange 
Than is thy strange apparent cruelty ; 
And where thou now exact'st the penalty, 
Which is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh, 
Thou wilt not only loose the forfeiture, 
But, touch'd with human gentleness and love, 
Forgive a moiety l of the principal ; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
That have of late so huddled on his back, 
Enow 2 to press a royal merchant down 
And pluck commiseration of his state 
From brassy bosoms and rough hearts of flint, 
From stubborn Turks and Tartars, never train'd 
To offices of tender courtesy. 
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 

Shylock. I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose ; 
And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
If you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter and your city's freedom. 
You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 
A weight of carrion flesh than to receive 

1 A moiety is literally " a half," but is used here, and frequently elsewhere 
by Shakespeare, for "a portion." 2 Enough. 



80 SHAKESPEARE. [act iv. 

Three thousand ducats : I'll not answer that : 

But, say, it is my humor : is it answer'd ? 

What if my house be troubled with a rat 

And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 

To have it baned ? 1 What, are you answer'd yet ? 

Some men there are love not a gaping pig ; 

Some, that are mad if they behold a cat ; 

For affection, 

Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 

Of what it likes or loathes. Now, for your answer: 

As there is no firm reason to be render'd, 

Why he 2 cannot abide a gaping pig ; 

Why he, 2 a harmless necessary cat ; 

So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 

More than a lodg'd hate and a certain loathing 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 

A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd ? 

Bassanio. This is no answer, thou unfeeling man, 
To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

Shy lock. I am not bound to please thee with my answers. 

Bassanio. Do all men kill the things they do not love? 

Shy lock. Hates any man the thing he would not kill? 

Bassanio. Every offense is not a hate at first. 

Shy lock. What, would'st thou have a serpent sting thee twice ? 

Antonio. I pray you, think you question with the Jew : 
You may as well go stand upon the beach 
And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
You may as well use question with the wolf 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops and to make no noise, 
When they are fretten 3 with the gusts of heaven ; 
You may as well do anything most hard, 
As seek to soften that — than which what's harder? — 

1 Destroyed. 2 This person. 3 Fretted ; troubled ; moved. 



SCENE I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 81 

His Jewish heart : therefore, I do beseech you, 
Make no more offers, use no further means, 
But with all brief and plain conveniency 
Let me have judgment and the Jew his will. 

Bassanio. For thy three thousand ducats here is six. 

Shy lock. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
Were in six parts and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them ; I would have my bond. 

Duke. How shalt thou hope for mercy, rend'ring none? 

Shy lock. What judgment shall I dread, doing no wrong? 
You have among you many a purchas'd slave, 
Which, like your asses and your dogs and mules, 
You use in abject and in slavish parts, 
Because you bought them : shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs ? 
Why sweat they under burthens ? let their beds 
Be made as soft as yours and let their palates 
Be season'd with such viands ? You will answer, 
"The slaves are ours: " so do I answer you: 
The pound of flesh, which I demand of him, 
Is dearly bought ; 'tis mine and I will have it. 
If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
There is no force in the decrees of Venice. 
I stand for judgment : answer ; shall I have it ? 

Duke. Upon my power I may dismiss this court, 
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, 
Whom I have sent for to determine this, 
Come here to-day. 

Salerio. My lord, here stays without 

A messenger with letters from the doctor, 
New come from Padua. 

Duke. Bring us the letters ; call the messenger. 

Bassanio. Good cheer, Antonio ! What, man, courage yet ! 
The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones and all, 
Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 



82 SHAKESPEARE. [act iv. 

Antonio. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for death : the weakest kind of fruit 
Drops earliest to the ground ; and so let me : 
You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, 
Than to live still and write mine epitaph. 

Enter Nerissa, dressed like a lawyer's clerk. 

Duke. Came you from Padua, from Bellario ? 

Nerissa. From both, my lord. Bellario greets your grace. 

[Presenting a letter. 

Bassanio. Why dost thou whet thy knife so earnestly? 

Shylock. To cut the forfeiture from that bankrupt there. 

Gratiano. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew, 
Thou mak'st thy knife keen ; but no metal can, 
No, not the hangman's ax, bear half the keenness 
Of thy sharp envy. 1 Can no prayers pierce thee ? 

Shylock. No, none that thou hast wit enough to make. 

Gratiano. Oh, be thou damn'd, inexorable dog ! 
And for thy life let justice be accus'd. 
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 2 
That souls of animals infuse themselves 
Into the trunks of men : thy currish spirit 
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for human slaughter, 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet, 
And, whilst thou lay'st in thy unhallow'd dam, 
Infus'd itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are wolvish, bloody, starv'd, and ravenous. 

Shylock. Till thou canst rail the seal from off my bond, 
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud : 
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To cureless ruin. I stand here for law. 

1 Malice. 

2 One of the most celebrated of the old Greek philosophers. He was the 
first among them to support the doctrine of metempsychosis, or the transmi- 
gration of souls into different bodies. 



scene i.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 8$ 

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth commend 
A young and learned doctor to our court. 
Where is he? 

Nerissa. He attendeth here hard by, 1 
To know your answer, whether you'll admit him. 

Duke. With all my heart. Some three or four of you 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. 
Meantime the court shall hear Bellario's letter. 

Clerk. [Peads] et Your grace shall understand that at the receipt 
of your letter I am very sick : but in the instant that your messenger 
came, in loving visitation was with me a yotmg doctor of Rome j his 
name is Balthasar. I acquainted him with the cause in controversy 
between the Jew and Antonio the merchant: we turn } d o'er many 
books together : he is furnished with my opinion j which, better 1 d 
with his own learning, the greatness whereof I cannot enough com- 
mend, comes with him, at my importunity, to fill up your grace's 
request in my stead. I beseech you, let his lack of years be no impedi- 
nient to let him lack a reverend estimation ; for I never knew so young 
a body with so old a head. I leave him to your gracious acceptance, 
whose trial shall better publish his commendation. " 

Duke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what he writes : 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. 

Enter Portia, dressed like a doctor of laws. 

Give me your hand. Came you from old Bellario ? 

Portia. I did, my lord. 

Duke. You are welcome : take your place. 

Are you acquainted with the difference 
That holds this present question in the court ? 

Portia. I am informed throughly 2 of the cause. 
Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? 

Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand forth. 

Portia. Is your name Shylock ? 

Shylock. Shylock is my name. 

1 " Hard by," i.e., close at hand. 2 Thoroughly. 



84 SHAKESPEARE. [act iv. 

Portia. Of a strange nature is the suit you follow ; 
Yet in such rule that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn you as you do proceed. 
You stand within his danger, do you not ? 

Antonio. Ay, so he says. 

Portia. Do you confess the bond ? 

A?itonio. I do. 

Portia. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

Shy lock. On what compulsion must I ? tell me that. 

Portia. The quality of mercy is not strain'd, 1 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice blest ; 
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes : 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest : it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown ; 
His scepter shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this scepter'd sway ; 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself ; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, 
That, in the course of justice, none of us 
Should see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. I have spoke thus much 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea ; 
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant there. 

Shy lock. My deeds upon my head ! I crave the law, 
The penalty and forfeit of my bond. 

Portia. Is he not able to discharge the money ? 

1 " Is not strain'd," i.e., is free from constraint. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 85 

Bassanio. Yes, here I tender it for him in the court ; 
Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suffice, 
I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er, 
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart: 
If this will not suffice, it must appear 
That malice bears down truth. And I beseech you, 
Wrest once the law to your authority : 
To do a great right, do a little wrong, 
And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

Portia. It must not be ; there is no power in Venice 
Can alter a decree established : 
'Twill be recorded for a precedent, 
And many an error by the same example 
Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 

Shylock. A Daniel come to judgment ! yea, a Daniel ! 
O wise young judge, how I do honor thee ! 

Portia. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 

Shylock. Here 'tis, most reverend doctor, here it is. 

Portia. Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee. 

Shylock. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in heaven : 
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul ? 
No, not for Venice. 

Portia. Why, this bond is forfeit ; 

And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
Nearest the merchant's heart. Be merciful : 
Take thrice thy money ; bid me tear the bond. 

Shylock. When it is paid according to the tenor. 
It doth appear you are a worthy judge ; 
You know the law, your exposition 
Hath been most sound : I charge you by the law, 
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar, 
Proceed to judgment : by my soul I swear 
There is no power in the tongue of man 
To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 



86 SHAKESPEARE. [act iv. 

Antonio. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
To give the judgment. 

Portia. Why then, thus it is : 

You must prepare your bosom for his knife. 

Shylock. O noble judge ! O excellent young man ! 

Portia. For the intent and purpose of the law- 
Hath full relation to the penalty, 
Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 

Shylock. 'Tis very true : O wise and upright judge ! 
How much more elder 1 art thou than thy looks ! 

Portia. Therefore lay bare your bosom. 

Shylock. Ay, his breast : 

So says the bond : doth it not, noble judge ? 
" Nearest his heart : " those are the very words. 

Portia. It is so. Are there balance 2 here to weigh 
The flesh ? 

Shylock. I have them ready. 

Portia. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on your charge, 
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 

Shylock. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 

Portia. It is not so express'd : but what of that ? 
'Twere good you do so much for charity. 

Shylock. I cannot find it ; 'tis not in the bond. 

Portia. You, merchant, have you anything to say ? 

Antonio. But little : I am arm'd and well prepar'd. 
Give me your hand, Bassanio : fare you well ! 
Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you ; 
For herein Fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom : it is still her use 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth, 
To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow 
An age of poverty ; from which ling'ring penance 
Of such a misery doth she cut me off. 

1 " More elder," a double comparative, not infrequent with Shakespeare. 

2 That is, a pair of balances. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OE VENICE. 87 

Commend me to your honorable wife : 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end ; 
Say how I lov'd you, speak me fair in death ; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge 
Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
Repent not you that you shall lose your friend, 
And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
For if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
I'll pay it presently with all my heart. 

Bassanio. Antonio, I am married to a wife 
Which is as dear to me as life itself ; 
But life itself, my wife, and all the world, 
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you. 

Portia. Your wife would give you little thanks for that, 
If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 

Gratiano. I have a wife, whom, I protest, I love : 
I would she were in heaven, so she could 
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 

Nerissa. Tis well you offer it behind her back ; 
The wish would make else an unquiet house. 

Shylock. \Aside\ These be the Christian husbands. I have a 
daughter ; 
Would any of the stock of Barrabas * 
Had been her husband rather than a Christian! 
We trifle time : I pray thee, pursue sentence. 

Portia. A pound of that same merchant's flesh is thine : 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 

Shylock. Most rightful judge ! 

Portia. And you must cut this flesh from off his breast : 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 

Shylock. Most learned judge ! A sentence ! Come, prepare ! 

1 The reference is to the descendants of Barabbas, the malefactor who was 
pardoned at the Crucifixion (see Luke xxiii. iS, 19). 



88 SHAKESPEARE. [act iv. 

Portia. Tarry a little ; there is something else. 
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
The words expressly are " a pound of flesh : " 
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of flesh ; 
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed 
One drop* of Christian blood, thy lands and goods 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate 1 
Unto the state of Venice. 

Gratiano. O upright judge ! Mark, Jew : O learned judge ! 

Shy lock. Is that the law ? 

Portia. Thyself shalt see the act : 

For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd 
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou desirest. 

Gratiano. O learned judge ! Mark, Jew : a learned judge ! 

Shy lock. I take his offer, then ; pay the bond thrice 
And let the Christian go. 

Bassanio. Here is the money. 

Portia. Soft ! 
The Jew shall have all justice ; soft ! no haste : 
He shall have nothing but the penalty. 

Gratiano. O Jew ! an upright judge, a learned judge ! 

Portia. Therefore prepare thee to cut off the flesh. 
Shed thou no blood, nor cut thou less nor more 
But just a pound of flesh : if thou cutt'st more 
Or less than a just pound, be it but so much 
As makes it light or heavy in the substance 
Or the division of the twentieth part 
Of one poor scruple, nay, if the scale do turn 
But in the estimation of a hair, 
Thou diest and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Gratiano. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew ! 
Now, infidel, I have you on the hip. 

Portia. Why doth the Jew pause ? take thy forfeiture. 

Shylock. Give me my principal, and let me go. 

1 Confiscated. 



scene i.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 89 

Bassanio. I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 

Portia. He hath refus'd it in the open court : 
He shall have merely justice and his bond. 

Gratiano. A Daniel, still say I, a second Daniel ! 
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 

Shy lock. Shall I not have barely my principal ? 

Portia. Thou shalt have nothing but the forfeiture, 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. 

Shy lock. Why, then the devil give him good of it ! 
I'll stay no longer question. 

Portia. Tarry, Jew : 

The law hath yet another hold on you. 
It is enacted in the laws of Venice, 
If it be prov'd against an alien 
That by direct or indirect attempts 
He seek the life of any citizen, 
The party 'gainst the which he doth contrive 
Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
Comes to the privy coffer of the state ; 
And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
In which predicament, 1 I say, thou stand'st ; 
For it appears, by manifest proceeding, 
That indirectly and directly too 
Thou hast contriv'd against the very life 
Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 
The danger formerly by me rehears'd. 
Down therefore and beg mercy of the duke. 

Gratiano. Beg that thou mayst have leave to hang thyself : 
And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the state, 
Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 
Therefore thou must be hang'd at the state's charge. 

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit, 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 

1 Situation. 



go SHAKESPEARE. [ACT IV. 

For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's ; 

The other half comes to the general state, 

Which humbleness may drive unto a fine. 

Portia. Ay, for the state, not for Antonio. 

Shy lock. Nay, take my life and all ; pardon not that : 
You take my house when you do take the prop 
That doth sustain my house ; you take my life 
When you do take the means whereby I live. 

Portia. What mercy can you render him, Antonio? 

Gratiano. A halter gratis ; nothing else, for God's sake. 

Antonio. So please my lord the duke and all the court 
To quit the fine for one half of his goods, 
I am content ; so he will let me have 
The other half in use, to render it, 
Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
That lately stole his daughter : 
Two things provided more, that, for this favor, 
He presently become a Christian ; 
The other, that he do record a gift, 
Here in the court, of all he dies possess'd, 
Unto his son Lorenzo and his daughter. 

Duke. He shall do this, or else I do recant 
The pardon that I late pronounced here. 

Portia. Art thou contented, Jew ? what dost thou say ? 

Shylock. I am content. 

Portia. Clerk, draw a deed of gift. 

Shylock. I pray you, give me leave to go from hence ; 
I am not well : send the deed after me, 
And I will sign it. 

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Gratiano. In christ'ning shalt thou have two godfathers : 
Had I been judge, thou shouldst have had ten more, 1 
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. [Exit Shylock. 

1 " Ten more," i.e., instead of two godfathers, he should have had a jury 
of twelve men to try him. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OE VENICE. 91 

Duke. Sir, I entreat you home with me to dinner. 

Portia. I humbly do desire your grace of pardon : x 
I must away this night toward Padua, 
And it is meet I presently set forth. 

Duke. I am sorry that your leisure serves you not. 
Antonio, gratify 2 this gentleman, 
For, in my mind, you are much bound to him. 

{Exeunt Duke and his train. 

Bassanio. Most worthy gentleman, I and my friend 
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
Of grievous penalties ; in lieu whereof, 
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
We freely cope 3 your courteous pains withal. 

Antonio. And stand indebted, over and above, 
In love and service to you evermore. 

Portia. He is well paid that is well satisfied ; 
And I, delivering you, am satisfied 
And therein do account myself well paid : 
My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
I pray you, know me when we meet again : 
I wish you well, and so I take my leave. 

Bassanio. Dear sir, of force I must attempt you further: 
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
Not as a fee : grant me two things, I pray you, 
Not to deny me, and to pardon me. 

Portia. You press me far, and therefore I will yield. 
[To Antonio] Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your sake ; 
[To Bassanio] And, for your love, I'll take this ring from you: 
Do not draw back your hand ; I'll take no more ; 
And you in love shall not deny me this. 

Bassanio. This ring, good sir, alas, it is a trifle ! 
I will not shame myself to give you this. 

1 " Desire your grace of pardon," a form of expression frequent with old 
writers. Shakespeare has elsewhere, " I desire you of the like' 1 and "I shall 
desire you of more acquaintance." . 2 Reward with a fee, 3 Requite. 



92 SHAKESPEARE. [act iv. 

Portia. I will have nothing else but only this ; 
And now methinks I have a mind to it. 

Bassanio. There's more depends on this than on the value. 
The dearest ring in Venice will I give you, 
And find it out by proclamation : 
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 

Portia. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers : 
You taught me first to beg ; and now methinks 
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd. 

Bassanio. Good sir, this ring was given me by my wife ; 
And when she put it on, she made me vow 
That I should neither sell nor give nor lose it. 

Portia. That 'scuse serves many men to save their gifts. ■ 
An if your wife be not a mad-woman, 
And know how well I have deserv'd the ring, 
She would not hold out enemy forever, 
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you ! 

[Exeunt Portia and Nerissa. 

Antonio. My Lord Bassanio, let him have the ring : 
Let his deservings and my love withal 
Be valued 'gainst your wife's commandment. 

Bassanio. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him ; 
Give him the ring, and bring him, if thou canst, 
Unto Antonio's house: away ! make haste. [Exit Gratiano. 

Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
And in the morning early will we both 
Fly toward Belmont : come, Antonio. [Exeunt. 

Scene II. The Same. A Street. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Portia. Inquire the Jew's house out, give him this deed 
And let him sign it : we'll away to-night 
And be a day before our husbands home : * 

This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 93 

V 
Enter Grattano. 

Gratiano. Fair sir, you are well o'erta'en : 
My Lord Bassanio upon more advice 1 
Hath sent you here this ring, and doth entreat 
Your company at dinner. 

Portia. That cannot be : 

His ring I do accept most thankfully : 
And so, I pray you, tell him : furthermore, 
I pray you, show my youth old Shylock's house. 

Gratiano. That will I do. 

Nerissa. Sir, I would speak with you. 

[Aside to Portia] I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 
Which I did make him swear to keep forever. 

Portia. [Aside to Nerissa] Thou mayst, I warrant. We shall 
have old swearing 
That they did give the rings away to men ; 
But we'll outface them, and outswear them too. 
[Aloud] Away ! make haste : thou know'st where I will tarry. 

Nerissa. Come, good sir, will you show me to this house ? 

[Exeunt. 

ACT V. 

Scene I. Belmont. Avenue to Portia's House. 

Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 

Lorenzo. The moon shines bright : in such a night as this, 
When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees 
And they did make no noise, in such a night 
Troilus 2 methinks mounted the Trojan walls 

1 Reflection. 

2 The story of the loves of Troilus and Cressid is not classical, though it 
is the groundwork of one of Shakespeare's plays. In the Iliad, Homer names 
Troilus as a son of Priam, King of Troy, but Cressid was not known to the 
ancients. 



94 SHAKESPEARE. [act v. 

And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents, 
Where Cressid lay that night. 

Jessica. In such a night 

Did Thisbe 1 fearfully o'ertrip the dew 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself 
And ran dismay'd away. 

Lorenzo. In such a night 

Stood Dido 2 with a willow in her hand 
Upon the wild sea banks and waft her love 
To come again to Carthage. 

Jessica. In such a night 

Medea 3 gather'd the enchanted herbs 
That did renew old ^Eson. 

Lorenzo. In such a night 

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew 

1 Pyramus and Thisbe were mythical lovers of Babylon, whose parents 
forbade their marriage. Determined to elude the vigilance of their friends, 
they appointed a place of meeting beyond the walls of the city. Thisbe 
came first, but, affrighted by a lion, fled to a cave, in her flight dropping her 
veil, which the lion seized and besmeared with his bloody mouth. When 
Pyramus arrived he discovered the stained garment, and, supposing Thisbe 
had fallen a prey to some wild beast, overwhelmed with grief, stabbed him- 
self. Thisbe, returning, found her lover dead, and in despair killed herself 
with the sword he had used. 

2 Dido, it is said, was the founder and queen of Carthage, the ancient city 
on the Mediterranean coast of Africa. yEneas, a Trojan hero, on his way to 
Italy with a company of colonists, driven by stress of weather into the port 
of Carthage, was kindly received by Dido, who would have married him ; 
but, obeying the mandate of the gods, ^Eneas sailed away with his ships, 
leaving her despondent and forlorn. 

3 Medea, we are told, was a famous magician, daughter of ^etes, King 
of Colchis. When Jason came to Colchis in quest of the Golden Fleece (see 
Note 3, p. 23), she became enamored of him. On his return to his native coun- 
try, the success of his expedition was celebrated with great rejoicings ; but 
his father, yEson, was unable to assist at the solemnities, owing to the infirm- 
ities of age. Medea, at the request of her husband, removed the weakness of 
^Eson, and drawing the blood from his veins, and filling them again with 
juices of certain plants, renewed in him the vigor and vivacity of youth. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE, 95 

And with an unthrift love did run from Venice 
As far as Belmont. 

Jessica. In such a night 

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well, 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith 
And ne'er a true one. 

Lorenzo. In such a night 

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 

Jessica. I would out-night you, did nobody come ; 
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 

Enter Stephano. 

Lorenzo. Who comes so fast in silence of the night ? 

Stephano. A friend. 

Lorenzo. A friend ! what friend ? your name, I pray you, 
friend ? 

Stephatw. Stephano is my name ; and I bring word 
My mistress will before the break of day 
Be here at Belmont : she doth stray about 
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
For happy wedlock hours. 

Lorenzo. Who comes with her ? 

Stephano. None but a holy hermit and her maid. 
I pray you, is my master yet return'd ? 

Lorenzo. He is not, nor we have not heard from him. 
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
And ceremoniously let us prepare 
Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 

Enter Launcelot. 

Launcelot. Sola, sola ! wo ha, ho ! sola, sola ! 
Lorenzo. Who calls ? 

Launcelot. Sola ! did you see Master Lorenzo and Mistress 
Lorenzo ? sola, sola ! 



96 SHAKESPEARE. [act V. 

Lorenzo. Leave hollaing, man : here. 

Launcelot. Sola ! where ? where ? 

Lorenzo. Here. 

Launcelot. Tell him there's a post come from my master, with 
his horn full of good news : my master will be here ere morning. 

[Exit. 

Lorenzo. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect 1 their coming. 
And yet no matter : why should we go in ? 
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
Within the house, your mistress is at hand ; 

And bring your music forth into the air. [Exit Stephano. 

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
Here will we sit and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears : soft stillness and the night 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines 2 of bright gold : 
There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring 3 to the young-ey'd cherubins ; 
Such harmony is in immortal souls ; 
But whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 

Enter Musicians. 

Come, ho ! and wake Diana with a hymn : 

With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' ear 

And draw her home with music. [Music. 

Jessica. I am never merry when I hear sweet music. 

Lore7izo. The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 
For do but note a wild and wanton herd 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 

1 Await. 

" A patine was a small plate, generally of gold, used in the Eucharist. 

3 That is, " choiring," singing. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 97 

Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud, 

Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 

If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 

Or any air of music touch their ears, 

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 

Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze 

By the sweet power of music : therefore the poet 

Did feign that Orpheus l drew trees, stones, and floods ; 

Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 

But music for the time doth change his nature. 

The man that hath no music in himself, 

Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, 

Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 

The motions of his spirit are dull as night 

And his affections dark as Erebus : 2 

Let no such man be trusted. Mark the music. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

Portia. That light we see is burning in my hall. 
How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

Nerissa. When the moon shone, we did not see the candle. 

Portia. So doth the greater glory dim the less : 
A substitute shines brightly as a king 
Until a king be by, and then his state 
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
Into the main of waters. Music ! hark ! 

Nerissa. It is your music, madam, of the house. 

Portia. Nothing is good, I see, without respect : 
Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day. 

1 Orpheus, the old mythologists relate, was the son of Apollo, from whom 
he received a lyre, upon which he played so skillfully that even the most 
rapid rivers ceased to flow, the savage beasts of the forests forgot their wild- 
ness, and the mountains moved, to listen to his music. 

2 The gloomy region between the earth and Hades. 



98 SHAKESPEARE. [act v. 

Nerissa. Silence bestows that virtue on it, madam. 

Portia. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark 
When neither is attended, and I think 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a musician than the wren. 
How many things by season season'd are 
To their right praise and true perfection ! 
Peace, ho ! the moon sleeps with Endymion 1 
And would not be awak'd. [Music ceases. 

Lorenzo. That is the voice, 

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. 

Portia. He knows me as the blind man knows the cuckoo, 
By the bad voice. 

Lorenzo. Dear lady, welcome home. 

Portia. We have been praying for our husbands' healths, 
Which speed, we hope, the better for our words. 
Are they return'd ? 

Lo7'enzo. Madam, they are not yet ; 

But there is come a messenger before, 
To signify their coming. 

Portia. Go in, Nerissa ; 

Give order to my servants that they take 
No note at all of our being absent hence ; 
Nor you, Lorenzo ; Jessica, nor you. [A tucket 2 sounds. 

Lorenzo. Your husband is at hand ; I hear his trumpet : 
We are no telltales, madam ; fear you not. 

Portia. This night methinks is but the daylight sick ; 
It looks a little paler : 'tis a day, 
Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 

1 A shepherd of mythology, with whom Selene, the goddess of the moon, 
fell in love. Ashamed to have a mere mortal know that she loved him, she 
caused Endymion to fall into a deep sleep, during which she visited and 
caressed him. 

2 Trumpet. 



scene i.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 99 

Enter Bassanio, Antonio, Gratiano, and their followers. 

Bassanio. We should hold day with the Antipodes, 
If you would walk in absence of the sun. 1 

Portia. Let me give light, but let me not be light ; 
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband, 
And never be Bassanio so for me : 
But God sort all ! You are welcome home, my lord. 

Bassanio. I thank you, madam. Give welcome to my friend. 
This is the man, this is Antonio, 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. 

Portia. You should in all sense be much bound to him, 
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 

Antonio. No more than I am well acquitted of. 

Portia. Sir, you are very welcome to our house : 
It must appear in other ways than words, 
Therefore I scant this breathing courtesy. 

Gratiano. [To Nerissa\ By yonder moon I swear you do me 
wrong ; 
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk. 

Portia. A quarrel, ho, already ! what's the matter ? 

Gratiano. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
That she did give to me, whose posy was 
For all the world like cutler's poetry 2 
Upon a knife, " Love me, and leave me not." 

Nerissa. What talk you of the posy or the value ? 
You swore to me, when I did give it you, 
That you would wear it till your hour of death 
And that it should lie with you in your grave : 
Though not for me, yet for your- vehement oaths, 
You should have been respective and have kept it. 

1 " We should hold," etc., i.e., we should have daylight when the Antip- 
odes have it, if you would come abroad at night. 

2 " Cutler's poetry." Swords, the blades of knives, etc., were inscribed, 
by the action of an acid, with distiches and mottoes. 



ioo SHAKESPEARE. [act v. 

Gave it a judge's clerk ! no, God's my judge, 
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on's face that had it. 

Gratiano. He will, an if he live to be a man. 

Nerissa. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 

Gratiano. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a youth, 
A kind of boy, a little scrubbed 1 boy, 
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk, 
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee : 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 

Portia. You were to blame, I must be plain with you, 
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift ; 
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
And so riveted with faith unto your flesh. 
I gave my love a ring and made him swear 
Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
I dare be sworn for him he would not leave it 
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gratiano, 
You give your wife too unkind a cause of grief : 
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 

Bassanio. [Aside] Why, I were best to cut my left hand off 
And swear I lost the ring defending it. 

Gratiano. My Lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
Unto the judge that begg'd it and indeed 
Deserv'd it too ; and then the boy, his clerk, 
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd mine ; 
And neither man nor master would take aught 
But the two rings. 

Portia. What ring gave you, my lord ? 

Not that, I hope, which you receiv'd of me. 

Bassanio. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
I would deny it ; but you see my finger 
Hath not the ring upon it ; it is gone. 

1 Stunted. 



scene I.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. IOI 

Portia. Even so void is your false heart of truth. 
By heaven, I will never be your wife 
Until I see the ring. 

Nerissa. No, nor I yours 

Till I again see mine. 

Bassanio. Sweet Portia, 

If you did know to whom I gave the ring, 
If you did know for whom I gave the ring 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring 
And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
When naught would be accepted but the ring, 
You would abate the strength of your displeasure. 

Portia. If you had known the virtue of the ring, 
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
Or your own honor to contain the ring, 
You would not then have parted with the ring. 
What man is there so much unreasonable, 
If you had pleas'd to have defended it 
With any terms of zeal, wanted the modesty 
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? * 
Nerissa teaches me what to believe : 
I'll die for't but some woman had the ring. 

Bassanio. No, by my honor, madam, by my soul, 
No woman had it, but a civil doctor, 2 
Which did refuse three thousands ducats of me 
And begg'd the ring ; the which I did deny him 
And suffer'd him to go displeas'd away ; 
Even he that did uphold the very life 
Of my dear friend. What should I say, sweet lady ? 
I was enforc'd to send it after him ; 
I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 3 

1 This word is here given to the thing consecrated by a ceremony. 

2 " Civil doctor," i.e., a doctor of civil law. 

3 " Shame and courtesy," i.e., shame at being thought ungrateful, and a 
nse of what courtesy required. 



102 SHAKESPEARE. [act v. 

My honor would not let ingratitude 

So much besmear it. Pardon me, good lady ; 

For, by these blessed candles of the night, 

Had you been there, I think you would have begg'd 

The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 

Portia. Let not that doctor e'er come near my house : 
Since he hath got the jewel that I lov'd, 
And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
I will become as liberal as you : 
I'll not deny him anything I have. 

~lSFerissa. Nor I his clerk ; therefore be well advis'd 
_How you do leave me to mine own protection. 

Antonio. I am the unhappy subject of these quarrels. 

Portia. Sir, grieve not you ; you are welcome notwithstanding. 

Bassanio. Portia, forgive me this enforced wrong : 
And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 
Wherein I see myself — 

Portia. Mark you but that ! 

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself ; 
In each eye, one : swear by your double self, 
And there's an oath of credit. 

Bassanio. Nay, but hear me : 

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear 
I never more will break an oath with thee. 

Antonio. I once did lend my body for his wealth ; 
Which, but for him that had your husband's ring, 
Had quite miscarried : I dare be bound again, 
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
Will never more break faith advisedly. 

Portia. Then you shall be his surety. Give him this 
And bid him keep it better than the other. 

A?itonio. Here, Lord Bassanio ; swear to keep this ring. 

Bassanio. By heaven, it is the same I gave the doctor ! 

Portia. I had it of him. You are all amaz'd : 



scene i.] THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. 103 

Here is a letter ; read it at your leisure ; 

It comes from Padua, from Bellario : 

There you shall find that Portia was the doctor, 

Nerissa there her clerk : Lorenzo here 

Shall witness I set forth as soon as you 

And even but now return'd ; I have not yet 

Enter'd my house. Antonio, you are welcome ; 

And I have better news in store for you 

Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 

There you shall find three of your argosies 

Are richly come to harbor suddenly : 

You shall not know by what strange accident 

I chanced on this letter. 

Antonio. I am dumb. 

Bassanio. Were you the doctor and I knew you not ? 

Antonio. Sweet lady, you have given me life and living ; 
For here I read for certain that my ships 
Are safely come to road. 1 

Portia. How now, Lorenzo ! 

My clerk hath some good comforts too for you. 

Nerissa. Ay, and I'll give them him without a fee. 
There do I give to you and Jessica, 
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift, 
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 

Lorenzo. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
Of starved people. 

Portia. It is almost morning, 

And yet I am sure you are not satisfied 
Of these events at full. Let us go in ; 
And charge us there upon inter' gatories, 
And we will answer all things faithfully. \Exeunt 

1 Port. 



SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 



The plan that a teacher adopts for a class study of a work in litera- 
ture depends of course upon the conditions under which the work is 
done. In general there will be some preparation before the book is 
read with the purpose of interesting the class in the work to be done, 
two readings for the mastery of the thought, and a study of the book 
as a whole to consider the problems presented. 

If the student has read some of the plays of Shakespeare before 
coming to The Merchant of Venice he should be prepared for the 
study of this play by having to recall what he has previously learned 
of Shakespeare and his time. Otherwise, he should begin at once 
with a reading of the play as rapid as is consistent with his ability to 
understand what he reads. 

The first reading should give him an intelligent understanding of 
the story and of the relation of the different scenes to one another. 
A consideration of what each scene aims to accomplish is a great help 
toward one's understanding of the play. The purpose of the second 
reading will depend on the age and maturity of the student. Usually 
The Merchant of Venice is read early in the high school course, when 
critical study is not profitable. It should always be read a second 
time, however, to enable the student to appreciate more fully than 
is possible with a single reading the poetic parts; to commit to memory 
some of the fine passages in which the play abounds; and to make 
possible the studies in plot, setting, and character which one needs 
to make in order to remember the play in the best sense of the term. 

THE FIRST AND SECOND READINGS. 

The opening lines of a play serve the purpose of the first chapter 
of a novel, to show us where the action is to take place, who the 
persons are, and what the story is to be about. In Act I, there- 

104 



SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 105 

fore, we are taken both to Venice and to Belmont, we meet all the 
leading characters, and we are informed of the two problems to be 
worked out in the play. The first one is how a young man, in debt 
and without resources, can woo and win a wealthy lady, who by the 
terms of her father's will must accept the man who, complying with 
certain conditions, makes a lucky guess of the one of three caskets 
that contains her likeness. The second is how a debtor can escape 
from an enraged creditor, who happens to be his bitterest enemy, 
and who is fortified by the sacredness of the law. 

Act I, Scene 1, shows the gay life of Venice, makes us curious about 
Antonio's melancholy mood, and informs us of Bassanio's love and 
his need for money. 

Scene 2 is to interest us in Portia, to make us acquainted with the 
provisions of her father's will, and to show us to what extent she is 
being wooed. 

Scene 3 reveals the terrible conditions of the bond by which 
Bassanio is to get money for winning Portia, and shows unmistakably 
both the burning hatred of Shylock for Antonio and the haughty 
contempt of Antonio for Shylock. 

As Act I has informed us of the problems of the play, Act II 
presents a series of incidents some of which lead to the success of 
Bassanio while others reveal the growing hatred and madness of 
Shylock. 

Scene 1 merely prepares us for the failure of the first suitor. 

Scene 2 is like the play of clowns in the circus; it furnishes fun for 
the audience, and incidentally shows how Bassanio gains and Shy- 
lock loses. 

Scene 3 prepares us for Shylock's loss of his daughter. 

Scene 4 reveals the plan for Jessica's escape with her father's 
money and jewels. 

Scene 5 makes us sympathize with Jessica in her unnatural act, and 
consequently rejoice over the coming misfortunes of Shylock. 

Scene 6 is a spectacular scene in which Jessica makes her escape 
and completes Shylock's insane fury for Antonio. 

Scene 7 presents the failure of the first suitor and the satisfaction 
of Portia over his failure. 

Scene 8 warns us of coming misfortune for Antonio. 



106 SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 

Scene q gives us the further satisfaction of Portia over the failure 
of an unloved suitor, and announces the approach of Bassanio. 

Act III, Scene 1 confirms our fears for Antonio's losses and reveals 
Shylock's madness for revenge. 

Scene 2 is the climax scene of the Bassanio-Portia story. It shows 
us plainly that the heiress is truly in love with the Venetian suitor and 
he with her. It is made beautiful by a setting of wealth and beauty 
and by the romantic nature of the action. We are lifted to the highest 
pitch of emotion by the manly virtue of Bassanio and the womanly 
modesty of Portia. Bassanio's success is made more complete by 
Gratiano's winning of Nerissa. But in the moment of success comes 
a letter from Antonio which informs Bassanio of the complete loss of 
Antonio's ships and the forfeiture of his bond. 

Scene 3 enforces the impression of Antonio's loss by showing us 
Shylock's unreasonable enmity toward Antonio. 

Scene 4 reveals Portia's plan to rescue Antonio. 

Scene 5 is an interlude to give us calm before the coming storm. 

Act IV, Scene 1 is the climax scene of the second of the two main 
stories. Shylock shows his insane hatred for Antonio and his cruel 
satisfaction at the hope of revenge. Portia delights us with her 
cleverness and her good sense. The rescue of Antonio from a terrible 
fate and the condemnation of Shylock raises our feelings to a high 
pitch and makes us feel that real justice has been done, though we 
are not sure about the legality of the court's decision. The exchange 
of rings, completed in Scene 2, is a preparation for the happy con- 
clusion in Act V. 

The purpose of Act V is to bring the play to a conclusion suitable 
for comedy. Act IV is largely tragedy, it marks the downfall of a 
man moved by the strongest feelings of personal hatred and religious 
prejudice. Act V, then, must change our surroundings and help us 
to forget the tragic. The first part puts us into the atmosphere of 
music, and poetry, and moonlight, and love. The latter part puts 
us into good spirits as we enter into the humor of the joke that Portia 
and Nerissa play on their husbands. Antonio is informed of the safe 
return of three of his ships. Jessica is told of the fortune that will 
be hers at the death of her father. All the principal characters except 
Shylock are present, all are happy. J And so the play ends a comedy. 



SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 107 

THE STUDY OF THE PLAY AS A WHOLE. 

The Setting. 

In studying the setting of a play we should consider the places and 
the time of the action, the classes of people so far as they are char- 
acteristic of the time, and the customs and habits of the people so far 
as they make real to us the time presented. In The Merchant of 
Venice we ought to think of the character of Venice and Belmont; 
the classes of people : the money lender, the importer, the gallant, the 
lady of wealth and family, and the serving class; and the customs of 
the time and habits of the people, e. g. taking of interest, treatment 
of Jews, growth of trade. 

While Venice and Belmont are named as the places where the 
action of the play occurs, there is little that is essentially Italian ex- 
cept the names. The Rialto was a bridge across one of the canals in 
the business section of Venice and hence was used for the section just 
as New Yorkers use the name Wall Street for the financial section of 
the city. Padua and Genoa are mentioned as places in the vicinity of 
Venice, or at least not far away. Beyond these names the setting is 
as much English as Italian. England was even then a trading nation 
and was developing importers like Antonio. Bassanio and his group 
of friends were typical gallants of Shakespeare's time. They seem 
very much like those who frequented the theaters sitting on the stage, 
sometimes in the way of the actors, and who were conspicuous figures 
on the street with their showy dress and haughty manners. The fine 
clothes of Bassanio and his followers, their swaggering air, the mas- 
querade all suggest the young Englishmen of Shakespeare's time. 

Although Jews were excluded from England by law from 1290 to 
1650, we know that there were some Jews in England during this 
period. Indeed there was a famous Jewish doctor, Roderigo Lopez, 
who was at one time physician to Queen Elizabeth, but who fell from 
favor and was executed in 1 594, just before the probable date of this 
play. During the trial public feeling ran high, and the intensity of 
racial prejudice was exhibited in many ways. It is not unlikely that 
Shakespeare with an eye to the main chance introduced the unlovely 
Shylock that he might take advantage of the popular feeling against 
the Jews and that the people were more or less familiar with this type 



108 SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 

of Jewish money lender. To complete the classes of English char- 
acters presented here, we have Launcelot and Gobbo, drawn evidently 
from life, as they are very similar to the clownish characters found in 
almost all of Shakespeare's plays. 

Belmont is a beautiful country estate, but there is nothing indi- 
vidual to mark it as Italian rather than English. And when we visit 
Stratford, the home of Shakespeare's youth, and see the old estates 
that we know were held by the noblemen of Elizabeth's time, we find 
it easy to believe that the dramatist was thinking of one of these 
when he pictured Portia's country seat. 

The strange ideas about taking interest that Antonio held suggest 
again the England of Shakespeare. In his argument with Shylock — 
Act I — Antonio presents the current feeling against the custom. 
Flocks of sheep and goats may increase. The borrower has more at 
the end of the year than at the beginning, and may therefore be 
reasonably expected to share the increase with the lender. But gold 
is barren, it cannot increase and therefore it is unreasonable for the 
lender to demand interest. The argument seems childish enough to 
us, but evidently did not seem so to the English of Elizabeth's day. 
For a discussion of the question by one of Shakespeare's contempo- 
raries see Bacon's essay Of Usury. 

Our enjoyment of The Merchant of Venice would be the same 
whether the dramatist was trying to portray the life of England that 
he knew from experience or the life of Italy that he knew from read- 
ing and conversation, but our study of the setting is profitable so far 
as it helps us to make real the life of the people of the time repre- 
sented. 

Plot. 

The problem of the play as introduced in the first act suggests two 
main stories: the Bassanio-Portia or casket story, and the Shylock- 
Antonio or bond story. These we follow throughout the various acts, 
but besides these there are three shorter stories or episodes, which 
help in one way or another the development of the two main stories. 
The Launcelot-Gobbo episode is introduced partly for the humor 
that was so pleasing to an Elizabethan audience and partly to show 
how Shylock lost his servant to Bassanio and so had one more reason 
for hating the Christians. The Lorenzo- Jessica episode furnishes the 



SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 109 

principal reason for the exceeding bitterness of Shy lock's hatred. 
Had this story been omitted it would have seemed far more im- 
probable that Shylock should have sought Antonio's life so in- 
humanly. The rings episode is introduced to connect the two main 
stories in a happy conclusion. 

The Bassanio-Portia story grows by definite steps to its culmina- 
tion in Act III. At the opening of the play Bassanio is in love, or 
thinks he is in love, with Portia, but is without resources to press his 
suit. He approaches his friend Antonio, who being out of ready 
money sends him out to try Antonio's credit among the money 
lenders. The money is readily obtained. A train of followers is 
quickly secured, if we may judge by the two whose names we know. 
Gratiano insists on going, and Launcelot counts himself most fortu- 
nate to be accepted by one "who gives rare new liveries." Portia is 
pressed by many suitors some of whom decline to hazard so much, 
others try their fortune and fail, but all are unloved by the lady. 
These failures have prepared us for the success of Bassanio who first 
wins Portia's love and then makes the fortunate choice of caskets. 

Side by side with this story of love and good fortune is a story of 
hatred and vengeance, the bond story. Shylock hating, most natu- 
rally we must admit, his Christain brother, takes a chance of getting 
power over him. Pretending a friendly spirit, he lends a sum of money 
without interest; but for a joke he asks Antonio to sign a strange and 
apparently impossible bond. Presently Shylock loses his servant to 
Antonio's friend, and then jewels, money, and worst of all his only 
daughter to another of these hated Christian friends of Antonio. 
Now comes his chance. Antonio forfeits his bond. Shylock may 
take sweet revenge. The law is plain, the claim is not disputed, the 
Duke is not willing to deny the law even to a despised Jewish money 
lender. What wonder that he grows arrogant ! What wonder that he 
hardens himself like flint! Portia comes disguised as a learned 
doctor of laws to interpret the law and see that justice is done, but 
she decides that the law is sacred and must be enforced. She leads 
the cruel plaintiff on, however, until he shows clearly that what he 
seeks is, not the just payment of his debt, but the life of his enemy. 
Then the judge takes away his breath by an unexpected decision. 
He must shed no blood. His fall is sudden and severe. He loses his 
chance for revenge, his honest debt, his fortune, all that he counts 



no SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 

dear. His punishment is so great that our sympathy is excited for 
the poor, abused, misguided man. 

It remains for us only to see how Shakespeare knit together these 
two main stories. Bassanio's need of money in pressing his suit for 
Portia leads to the signing of the terrible bond. The success of his 
suit provides a quick-witted judge who breaks the bond and saves 
Antonio from the clutches of his enemy. 

Characters. 

Several of the characters in The Merchant of Venice repay careful 
study. It is a good plan to follow each of these throughout the play 
noting what he does and what he says. For example let us take 
Lorenzo. In the first act he barely appears but makes no impression 
on us. In Act II he is the impulsive lover, romantic and poetic. In 
Acts III and IV he maintains a gentlemanly and dignified bearing. 
In Act V he reveals himself most strongly, for here he shows a poetic 
and artistic nature as he discourses of music and poetry and love. 
He stands for us as a fairly distinct personality; a scholar, a poet, an 
artist. 

Questions on Characters. 

Antonio. 

i. What do we learn in Act I, Scene i of Antonio's position? his 
wealth? his personality? his friendship? 

2. What does his first interview with Shylock in Scene 3 reveal of 
his manners? 

3. Compare Shylock's opinion of Antonio with the opinion held 
by Antonio's friends. (See II, 8 and III, 2.) 

4. Does the court scene change in any respect our opinion of 
Antonio? If so, in what respect? 

5. How do you account for the fact that so good a man as Antonio 
should be so brutal in his treatment of Shylock? 

Shylock. 

1. What reasons does Shylock give for hating Antonio? 

2. What do these reasons and the order in which he names them 
reveal of Shylock's character? 



SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. Ill 

3. What reason do you think he had for lending money to Antonio 
without interest? 

4. What is Jessica's feeling toward her father? Has she reason 
for this feeling on account of her father's treatment as we see it? 

5. Do you regard Shylock more or less highly from his reply to 
Salarino at the top of p. 59? What does this reply show? 

6. What does his interview with Tubal reveal of Shylock's char- 
acter? 

7. What inference can we draw from his remark about the tur- 
quoise ring, p. 60? 

8. Does he show reason at all in the court scene? What consider- 
ations did influence him? 

9. What do we think of a man who can hold out against such in- 
fluences and such pressure as Shylock withstood at the trial? 

10. Do you see anything to admire in Shylock? Had he traits 
that under different circumstances might have been virtues? Give 
reasons. What conditions had made him hard? 

n. If you were acting the part of Shylock, what impression would 
you try to give of Shylock as he leaves the court room? Why? 

12. Is our feeling against Shylock one of pity? contempt? hatred? 
Why? 

Bassanio. 

1. What relation was there between Bassanio and Antonio? Com- 
pare this, if you can, with the relationship existing between the 
corresponding characters in II Pecorone from which Shakespeare 
borrowed the idea of the bond story. Account for the change that 
Shakespeare has made. 

2. What claim, if any, has Bassanio on us for our regard or ad- 
miration? 

3. How would you characterize a young man to-day who should 
come to a business man with such a proposition as that which Bassanio 
made to Antonio? 

4. What facts of Bassanio's life are brought out in the dialogue 
between Portia and Nerissa in I, 2? 

5. What impressions do we get of Bassanio from what he says to 
Gratiano and Launcelot? 

6. How does he conduct himself with Portia? 



112 SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY. 

7. What does his feeling for Antonio reveal of his depth of char- 
acter? 

8. How does he conduct himself in the quarrel with his wife over 
the ring? 

9. Should we regard him as a fortune hunter, or as a nobleman 
worthy of his bride? Why? 

Portia. 

1. What traits of Portia are brought out in the dialogue with 
Nerissa in Act I? 

2. Does her treatment of Morocco and Arragon prejudice us for or 
against her? 

3. What do her words to Bassanio after his fortunate choice reveal 
of her character? 

4. How does Portia show herself a leader? a charming hostess? a 
delightful companion? 

5. Does Portia as judge reveal manly or womanly traits? Are we 
in danger of forgetting that she is a woman? 

6. Did she treat Shylock in a way becoming to her sex? her posi- 
tion? her character? 

7. What is revealed of her personality in the rings episode? 

8. Wordsworth says of another woman: 

"A perfect woman, nobly planned 
To warn, to comfort, and command." 

How far if at all might these words be applied to Portia? Give rea- 
sons fully. 



m b 1911 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



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